


I've seen Perfection

by Nayeliq1



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: A different spin on the proposal plot, Beryl and Anna to the rescue, Charles is an adorable idiot, F/M, First Kiss, Idea of investing in a property, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Sybbie is a genius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22566148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nayeliq1/pseuds/Nayeliq1
Summary: When Mrs Hughes takes ill, Mr Carson doesn't know what could be the matter with him and it annoys him beyond words. He can't concentrate at work, his thoughts drift off all the time and he even delegates supper to Thomas Barrow. Barrow! But it is only his duty that leads him to worry so much about her, of course. A Butler must be concerned about his staff's well-being...surely, it can't be more than that, could it?
Relationships: Anna Bates/John Bates, Charles Carson/Elsie Hughes, Cora Crawley/Robert Crawley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear Downton fandom and especially fellow Chelsie shippers! This is my first attempt in writing Downton fanfiction, but the new movie inspired me to rewatch the whole series and made me remember just how much I adore the relationship of Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes. So I thought why not give it a try and write something for them. The start might not be very good, I'm afraid, but I believe it will get better when I get used to the characters...or so I hope.
> 
> Do you remember when Mr Carson was ill and Mrs Hughes had to look after him? I thought it would be nice to turn the scenario around, wouldn't it?

"Has anyone seen Mrs Hughes this morning?"

Charles Carson, Butler of Downton Abbey, asked into the room where the Bates, Mr Molesley and Miss Baxter were sitting at the table, finishing last preparations before breakfast.

"She's still in her room, Mr Carson", Miss Baxter replied as she looked up from the stitching she was occupied with. "She looked a bit tired when I saw her this morning and I suggested she should go back to bed in case she wasn't feeling well."

"Not feeling well?", Mr Carson repeated surprised. Mrs Hughes was never missing work if she was able to avoid it, but surely, it couldn't be anything serious, could it?  
"Do you mean she's sick?"

"Only a cold, I'd say, Mr Carson", Miss Baxter replied compassionately as if she was able to read his thoughts. "She said she felt a bit feverish overnight."

"Perhaps the flu, but I'm sure it's nothing worse than that", Anna agreed from the other side of the table. "I can take over her work as long as she recovers", she offered friendly, willing to help as always.

"Yes, thank you, Anna, that would be most welcome. And I'm sure you're right that it's nothing serious. But nonetheless...I think I might go up and take a look at her myself", Mr Carson considered, speaking more to himself. He couldn't deny that he was worried about her, despite the two women's kind words.

"I'm sure she will appreciate that", Anna said before she turned back to the jewelery she was polishing, smiling in a way Mr Carson found slightly peculiar. She had only made a nice remark, and still, it startled him. What was that supposed to mean? Of course, as head of staff, he was obliged to worry about the well being of his household. He was only doing his duty if he went to look after her, didn't he? A bit puzzled, Carson left the room to find Thomas in the hallway, a sight that cleared his thoughts.

"Barrow", he called when he came to stand just in front of the kitchen.

"Yes, Mr Carson?"

"We're not expecting any guest today, are we?", he enquired although he was sure they weren't unless someone had been announced in last minute.

"Not that I was aware of, Mr Carson", Thomas confirmed his assumption.

"Good. That's good...I think you should lead the organization of today's supper", Carson told him then. "We have the best possible circumstances, only the family, nothing overly grand, it will be quite an ordinary day, so the house should be safe in your capable hands?" He raised his eyebrows expectingly.

"Of course, Mr Carson", Thomas assured, smiling a bit too satisfied for Carson's liking. "Thank you."

"You're the underbutler, Mr Barrow", he stated reasonably. "You should get used to taking more responsibility. And I'm sure I'll find everything to be on our highest standards."

Knowing that an answer was neither expected nor required, the other man bowed and turned around. Mr Carson looked after him for a second before he entered the kitchen where Mrs Patmore and Daisy were already busy getting the downstairs' breakfast ready.

"Leaving everything to Barrow?", Mrs Patmore asked doubtingly as soon as Thomas was out of earshot. Obviously she had overheard the conversation in the corridor.

"He has to learn to take over my duties at some point, Mrs Patmore", Mr Carson explained, although he secretly shared the cook's reservations. Thomas had never been a favourite of his, and even though he tried not to let it show in his treatment and acknowledged the changes that were about to become recognizable in Barrow's character, he was not released from all prejudices.

"I suppose", Mrs Patmore granted, paused for a second and looked at him. "But it wouldn't be the same here without you as Butler of the Abbey", she said then to Carson's surprise. "You know you could never be replaced, don't you, Mr Carson?"

"That's...very kind of you." He didn't know what else to say. He was touched indeed, although he didn't know what could have provoked her to such a remark. Surely she couldn't know that he had lately been thinking of-

"I only say what's true", Mrs Patmore stated calmly, disturbing his wondering. She threw another quick glance at him and then, to Carson's relief, turned her attention back to cutting bread and arranging it in a basket.

"Mrs Patmore...perhaps you could put something of breakfast aside to prepare a tray for Mrs Hughes", he suggested, grateful for the change of subject.

"Oh yes, of course", she agreed immediately. "I had planned to do so anyway. Daisy, would you go and lay the table?"

"Yes, Mrs Patmore."

"I'll bring it up to her as soon as I'm done", the cook told him while Daisy left the room.

"If you wouldn't mind, I thought I could do it myself." Mrs Patmore looked up at his words.

"No need to bother you, Mr Carson", she said, sounding a little bewildered.

"It wouldn't bother me at all", Carson assured her, "I planned to go up anyway, just have a quick look how she is", he added and watched as the cook's expression gave way to a smile, uncomfortably similar to the one he had received from Anna before.

"I see", she said, trying to suppress a smirk.

"I need to be informed about the state of health of the staff", Carson explained in his confident Butler-of-Downton-Abbey-voice, making clear that it was just the usual and reasonable thing to do - and it was, wasn't it? So why on earth did he feel this urge to justify himself? Somehow, he felt as if he'd been seen through, as if those two women knew something about him he wasn't even aware of himself...

"Of course, you do."  
Mrs Patmore's voice gave nothing away at all, maybe he had just been imagining things...-  
Good for Mr Carson that he had turned around before he could notice the little amused twitch in the corner of the cook's mouth.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Mrs Hughes?", Mr Carson called through the closed door. "May I come in?"

"It's open", he heard her voice from inside and couldn't fail to notice how weak she sounded, although he thought to hear a pleasantly surprised tone in it as well...but maybe that was just his wishful thinking.  
He pushed the door open with his shoulder so he could carry the tray with both hands and stepped inside. She sat in her bed, hair braided like she used to do at night, looking a little pale.

"Mrs Hughes...how are you?", Mr Carson asked softly as he closed the door with his back.

"I've been better", she admitted, but managed a smile nevertheless. "But I'm sure it's just a cold. Should be done soon", she added quickly at his surprisingly worried expression.

"I thought you might want something to eat", Mr Carson said and mentioned unnecessarily to the tray in his hands as he watched the smile widening.

"That's very kind of you", she said politely, almost a little embarrassed while she watched how he put the tray on her bedside table.  
"But you shouldn't have gone through such efforts for me..."

"Not at all", he contradicted her immediately. "It was Mrs Patmore who did the work, I was only the deliverer."

"And a very welcome one, I can assure you", Mrs Hughes replied to his delight. "Although I'm surprised you found the time to come."  
Well, he had ensured to **make** time for it, actually, but she didn't need to know that.

"It's a Butler's duty to look after the staff", he said therefore, repeating his explanation to Mrs Patmore.  
 _Why am I saying that to everyone?_

"But you could have sent someone", Mrs Hughes disturbed his thoughts. "There was no need for you to go yourself", she noted, expressing what apparently everyone thought, but he didn't need to justify himself, he was the Butler after all.

"Oh yes, there was."  
She scrutinized him at those words, seemed to consider if she should probe, but apparently thought better of it.

"Alright, then", she changed the subject instead and sat up to get out of bed, "I have to speak to Anna, we must plan-"  
But he rose his hands in conciliation, gesturing her to sit back down before she had even had the chance to get up.

"I already spoke to her", he told her soothingly. "She'll take over your duties until you can go back to work."

"But-"

"You only need to stay here and recover, Mrs Hughes", he cut her off, soft but firm. "Trust me, everything's settled."

"Well then...if you say so."  
Mrs Hughes was used to arranging her work and the maids, and she would have been uncomfortable with leaving it to others, but in Mr Carson's case, she knew that everything would be in capable hands.  
Speaking of which...he stood in the room, a bit awkwardly, apparently unsure what to say or do next, but just as she wanted to step in to release him, he turned towards her.

"Shall I leave you?", he asked politely. "Perhaps you'd like to spend your meal in private?", he suggested, slightly unsure.  
"Or may I...?" He gestured towards a chair.

"Are you sure?", Mrs Hughes asked surprised, for she hadn't dared to hope that he might stay. "Of course, sit if you please...I wouldn't say no to a bit of company. But I was sure your presence would be requested somewhere else..."

"Mrs Hughes", he said with a smile while he put the chair at her bedside and sat down, "I can assure you, there's no place I'm needed more right now than here."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"Carson? Carson, is everything alright?"

The Butler was startled from his thoughts, woken by the voice of Lord Grantham. He had left Mrs Hughes about two hours ago, despite his words feeling the pressure of his duties that told him to return to work. So here he was in the library, doing what he usually did best and enjoyed most - but completely and utterly failing to concentrate. It annoyed him beyond words, feeling that he neglected his duties, the devotion to his vocation that usually never abandoned him, and yet he couldn't help it.

"Wha-? Yes, yes, perfectly fine, Mylord, I beg your pardon...", he stuttered, embarrassed that he had been caught in such a disgraceful position.

"You seemed deep in thoughts", Lady Grantham said, putting down her cup of tea to observe him rather concerned.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Mylady", Carson apologized again. "I was just...going through everything that needs to be done for today's supper. To check if Barrow's ahead of everything", he replied, hoping to save what was left of his dignity, for he could hardly reveal what his mind hat really been occupied with, the thought alone-

"Oh, yes", Robert nodded in agreement. "He told me he would oversee it today. I do not hope that anything's the matter?"

"Not at all, Mylord", Carson assured him. "I just thought it might be good training if he were to be Butler somewhere in the future."

"Quite right", Lord Grantham agreed, obviously satisfied with the Butler's reply, but his wife was not so easily convinced.

"I had already wondered if it might have something to do with Mrs Hughes being ill", she noted as casually as possible, unable to resist the temptation of unsettling the always so dignified Butler a little. And indeed, it had its effect, Cora noticed rather amusedly. Held breath, raised eyebrows, a straightening of his shoulders to regain composure.

"Your Ladyship?", he asked slowly, while Robert looked no less bewildered than the Butler himself. Cora couldn't have helped to laugh at the picture if she hadn't been taught to control herself from her earliest childhood, so it was merely a smile forming on her lips, rather satisfied with what she was sure she had been able to read due to her feminine capacities.

"Oh, never mind", she dismissed it, taking an innocent sip from her cup and giving away nothing at all apart from the little sparkle in her eyes Carson hoped he had only imagined.  
Robert, unsure what to make of the recent conversation, decided to make no further inquiries and slightly shook his head.

"Mrs Hughes ill?", he asked instead, astonished. "Why on earth did no one care to tell me?"

"I thought you knew", Cora replied truthfully, as she had assumed that Bates or Carson must have informed him. "Baxter told me this morning right after breakfast. Anna is going to take over her duties until she's better", she explained soothingly, knowing how much her husband hated to be left out with information, even though it seemed to happen with considerable regularity.

"Alright, alright...", Robert nodded in consent. "By now, I suppose I should be used to being the last who gets to know anything that happens in this house", he sighed then, earning a sympathetic smile from his wife.  
"But it's nothing serious, Carson, is it?", he added in the Butler's direction.

"I would not say so, Mylord", Carson replied. "I went to see her this morning and she didn't seem too unwell, apart from a fever. Although she might need to keep to her bed for a couple of days."

"Yes, of course", Lord Grantham agreed. "But you don't think we should call for Dr Clakson?"

"I don't believe that will be necessary."  
Nevertheless, he was more than pleased that Lord and Lady Grantham seemed to care so much about the well-being of their staff, an impression that the latter confirmed when she continued.

"Even so, I hope you will let us know in case it gets worse", Cora told the Butler, her voice soft but insistent. "And if anything is required-"

"Absolutely", her husband agreed immediately. "Don't be afraid to ask."

"Keep an eye on her, Carson, will you?", Lady Grantham asked him and it was a request Carson was only too happy to grant.

"Certainly, Mylady."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Mr Carson had returned upstairs after he had been dismissed by His Lordship, a strange kind of relief filling his body that was quite unfamiliar to him in the face of being released from his beloved work. They had told him to see after Mrs Hughes and he would have done so anyway, but he felt better with being instructed by Lord Grantham.

"Mrs Hughes?"

He had knocked at her door, receiving no answer.  
 _Perhaps she has fallen asleep again_ , he thought and already wanted to turn around and leave again when he heard a sound through the door that made him pause in his movement. It was nothing but a quiet moan, almost imperceptible, but something in the sound made him contract uncomfortably deep within.  
Knowing that it was most inappropriate to enter without invitation, but unable to stop himself, he slowly turned the doorknob and stepped inside, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible.

She was indeed sleeping, but tossing and turning in unease, restless. He could see the sweat on her forehead from where he was standing, but if it came from the fever or the dream she was apparently suffering from, he couldn't tell.  
Without thinking, Mr Carson crossed the room with a few big steps and came to stand at her bedside, leaning down to feel her temperature with the back of his hand on her forehead. It was hot and damp like he had expected, his rosy hand a concerning contrast against her pale skin as he dared to brush a sweaty strand of hair out of her face.  
Mrs Hughes stirred at his touch but didn't wake, so he was even more startled when he suddenly felt her fingers wrapping around the wrist of his other hand, which he had used to support himself on the bed while leaning down. Unsure what to do, he didn't dare to move, just stared at her hand for a while, her knuckles white from the firm grip, as if she were desperately clutching to something in her state of unconsciousness. He waited for her to let go as he listened to her heavy breathing, but nothing happened.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to him, he moved. He didn't know what it was that led him, he knew he should have freed himself and left the room - she could wake up every minute after all, and what would she say if she found him here?  
But instead, he slowly adjusted his hand in her grip, turned it so he could lay his hand around hers, carefully covering the cold back of her hand with his fingers. And as soon as he did so she began to calm, her breathing evened and became deeper, he watched in astonishment how her troubled features relaxed and she settled into a more peaceful sleep, her fingers still grabbing his hand unconsciously. Now that she was calm, Mr Carson didn't dare to disturb her - knowing that he would do so by removing his hand and in the knowledge that he wasn't needed in the house during the next hour, he sat down and leaned back in the chair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit that I quite like this part, so I have high hopes that you'll agree with me!
> 
> I like to "borrow" some lines from the script if I can, I always think it's nice to recognize something you already loved, but maybe in a slightly different context. It will happen from time to time and I'm sure you'll notice some familiar sentences here;) Also, I guess the title will make more sense after this and I'd be curious to hear your thoughts about it!

Mrs Hughes awoke. She remembered that she had dreamed. She couldn't recall what it had been exactly, some feverish nightmare...but then it had changed...Mr Carson had appeared out of nowhere, took her hand and led her away from whatever it was...

She blinked the sleepiness out of her eyes, turned her head to take a look at the clock and, to her great shock and surprise, found the very person she had just seen in her dream sitting in the chair beside her bed, eyes closed, his chin sunken down on his chest. Despite the shock, she couldn't suppress a little grin at this sight and her gaze wandered over his sleeping figure, followed his outstretched arm to the edge of her bed where it landed on their joined hands - perhaps it hadn't been so much of a dream after all?

With a renewed start, she withdrew hers. She hadn't even noticed the contact before, but the loss of it made her unpleasantly aware of the warmth and comfort it had spent.  
The sudden movement seemed to disturb Mr Carson as well, for he stirred and his eyes flew open.

"W-Where am I?", he stuttered and looked around the room, still sleepy, "Why-..." He broke off, stared at Mrs Hughes and she saw his eyes widen when the realisation hit him.

"That's rather a question I should ask", she said, unable to suppress an amused smirk at his utter shock.

"Oh, Mrs Hughes, I'm ever so sorry", he mumbled embarrassed, while he sat up in the chair. "I don't know how this could happen..."

"Well, **I** can't tell you", she replied, rather delighting in teasing him a little. She didn't want to torture him, but couldn't deny that he was quite adorable when being put on the spot, a state in which she saw him rarely enough.

"I came to see how you were and your sleep seemed a bit restless", he went on in an attempt to explain, "so I sat down for only a second...I must have fallen asleep", he finally muttered more to himself.

"I'd rather say you did."  
She bit down on her lower lip like she used to do to suppress the smirk that didn't want to leave her face, the situation just too improbable and ridiculous not to be smiled at.

"I must beg your pardon for penetrating your privacy like this", he mumbled, obviously trying to regain his composure, "I really didn't mean to-"

"Oh, for goodness sake", Mrs Hughes interrupted him, feeling that it was time to take him out of his misery, for he was obviously taking the whole thing far more serious than she did. "Stop apologizing. There's no harm done."

"You're not angry with me?", he asked surprised, throwing an unsure glance at her.

"Why should I be? We both know you came with the most honourable intentions", she told him and almost laughed at his expression, full of shock about the implication that it could have been otherwise. "And nothing happened, did it?"

"No, no of course not", he agreed in his deep rumble.

"Well, then", she smiled.  
He was relieved about her kind reaction to this most inappropriate situation, but still, he didn't know how to go on and the silence that spread through the room seemed almost tangible to him, pounding louder in his ears with every second that passed. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

"I think I should go", he then announced suddenly. "You seem to be much better than when I came and I need to see how Barrow's doing..."

"Oh yes, please, go", Mrs Hughes agreed quite enthusiastically, for she didn't want him to think that he had any sort of obligation to stay with her. "You don't need to spend all your precious time in such poor company as I certainly am right now", she told him with a smile she hoped to be convincing. "And I'm sure Mrs Patmore is already furious, being ordered around by Thomas." Carson couldn't help but smile at that as well.

"Indeed", he agreed, but immediately turned serious again. "But I can assure you, you're everything but poor company, Mrs Hughes", he told her quietly, looking down at his hands.

"Well, I should be off", he continued after a moment to prevent the uncomfortable silence from returning.  
"But I could drop in again later, if you'd like?" He tried to make it sound as casual as possible, although he feared a hint of hope might have been left - but surely she hadn't noticed.  
Mrs Hughes **had** noticed, of course, but she, on the other hand, was certain to have just imagined it.

"Oh, would you?", she asked, no less determined not to seem too delighted at the prospect.  
"That would be so nice, thank you."

"Alright then, let's get down to business", he announced, back in his Butler-persona. "And you rest and try to get some more sleep, restorative sleep, this time. My mother always said that's the best medicine." She nodded obediently.

"And who dares to question one's mothers?"

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Mr Carson hadn't needed much time to check on the preparations for dinner. Mrs Patmore had quickly instructed him about everything she had spoken through with her Ladyship and had assured him that it was settled down to the smallest detail. A round through the upstairs rooms had shown him that Thomas actually seemed to be quite capable as well, apart from some small adjustments due to Carson's distinctive idealism, he had nothing to complain. So, with the blessing of his Lordship and under the eyes of a rather too smug Barrow, Carson left the dining room to make a last visit to Mrs Hughes before he would finish the day with his usual rounds around the house.

He knocked and this time, he got an answer, but there was something in her voice he didn't like at all, he just couldn't put his finger on it.  
He saw it, however, when he entered. Mrs Hughes was just sitting up in her bed, she had been asleep until his knock had disturbed her, as it seemed, and she looked rather flustered.

"Mrs Hughes? Mrs Hughes, are you alright?", he asked clearly concerned as he closed the door and made his way through the room.

"I- I believe so..." She blinked several times, trying to chase away the sleepiness and memories of her dream in equal measure.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you", Mr Carson said apologetically and sat down in the chair that had become his personal spot.  
"But we said I should come back later..."

"Oh yes...you don't need to apologize", Mrs Hughes assured him warmly, her head clearing with every second.  
"I'm rather glad you woke me", she assured him and watched in awe how his eyes softened even more.

"Was it a bad dream?", he asked compassionately.

"You could say so...", she confirmed, "A strange one for sure..."

"I told you to get some **restorative** sleep", he scolded her, just a hint of real reproach in his voice, but she knew it was in jest.

"Well, I did hardly **choose** to have nightmares, did I?", she shot back in return, her Scottish accent slightly more distinguishable than usually. He liked it when that happened. Every time she was excited or passionate about something. Or when she was arguing with someone - him, mostly-, be it serious or not.

"Quite right...", he granted her, for now was neither the time nor place for discussions.  
"Do you want to talk about it?", he offered carefully, in his experience the only thing that could do any good. Her eyes widened at his suggestion.

"Oh, Mr Carson, I don't think I should-", she refused and he feared he might have overstepped a line, but something told him that her reaction had a different reason.

"It might help. Go on, tell me", he encouraged her therefore. He didn't want to press her, but he wanted to be of help and right now, he saw nothing for him to be done but listen to whatever might be troubling her, to share the burden if he could. But Mrs Hughes shook her head.

"No, really, I would be too embarrassed if I told you", she said, looking down at her hands she was wringing nervously in her lap.  
Mr Carson had barely ever seen her like this, he didn't know her to be the guarded type of person, never lost for something, and now she was even slightly blushing - he had no idea what to make of it.

"Embarrassed?", he replied bewildered. "Why's that?"

"Because...", she stopped, threw a quick glance at him before she turned her eyes down again with a sigh.  
"Because it concerned **you** ", she then admitted shyly and turned an even darker shade.  
Carson, for his part, wasn't entirely sure if his own ears didn't turn slightly red as well at those words - whatever he had thought her to say, he hadn't been expecting that.

"Oh", he said rather dumb and had to look away for a moment to think of his next words. Deciding that it wouldn't do any good if both of them kept stuttering around like embarrassed fools, he cleared his throat in an attempt to shake it off and continued in what he hoped to be a light-hearted tone.  
"Well, now you have to tell me", he said with a smile and watched in relief how Mrs Hughes looked up, a smile forming on her lips as well.  
 _Good_ , he thought, _she seems to get back to her normal self, then._

"Alright...", she finally gave way, "it was about you and- someone else. I dreamed that I was at your wedding", she clarified and surprised Mr Carson even more, if that was possible.

"Doesn't sound like such a bad dream to me", he managed to remark despite his amazement that she would think about such a thing at all. Weddings and... **his** wedding, especially.  
 _But I shouldn't read to much into it_ , he told himself as her voice disturbed his thoughts.

"I told you it was more **strange** than...bad", she said, pronouncing the word in a way that he couldn't help but become curious.

"May I ask who the lucky intended was?", he asked as casually as possible. Surely, it couldn't have been-

"Well, maybe I should add that I don't know where this came from, it really makes no sense at all-", Mrs Hughes tried to explain beforehand, the embarrassment clearly taking hold of her again.

"Mrs Hughes, who was it?", Mr Carson asked quietly, hoping to soothe her with his own calmness. He thought it might have been herself she had seen in her dream, actually, he couldn't deny that he secretly even hoped so, but why exactly...

"M- Miss...Denker...", her cautious voice was carried through to him. _Wait. What?!_  
Mrs Hughes bit on her lip to hold back an amused grin as Mr Carson's mouth fell open, he blinked several times, apparently trying to make out if he had heard correctly, closed his mouth again, opened it, but the words were stuck in his throat.

"Miss-", he finally managed to gasp in shock and she would have burst out laughing if it hadn't been so embarrassing.

"I said it made no sense", Mrs Hughes defended herself, torn between the desire to laugh and to hide her face in her hands.  
Thankfully, Mr Carson seemed to have regained his ability to speak, so she was spared a decision for either.

"None at all!", he declared with vigour. "Where in the world could you have gotten the idea I'd-", he broke off, unable to finish the sentence. Just the thought -!

"Oh, I shouldn't have told you...", Mrs Hughes said apologetically. "Now you're reading things into it..." She closed her eyes for a second, took a deep breath to gather herself and opened them again.  
"Mr Carson", she said then, steadier this time, "I can assure you, this scenario never even crossed my mind before."

"I would hope not", he replied with utter confidence. "I couldn't imagine anything less probable." She watched how his expression suddenly softened and his voice was quieter when he spoke again, making it sound even more serious in her ears.

"I think we both know there's only one person I'd ever agree to marry", he said calmly and completely sincere, so it was her turn to be startled this time.

"Whatever makes you say that?", she stuttered in confusion. "I'd never claim to know any such thing. And why would I? Not any of my business, now, is it?", she said, hoping to sound much more careless than she actually felt.  
 _What would make him say such a thing? Surely, he couldn't mean...-_  
 _No, no, no,_ she told herself _, don't keep any unfounded hopes up, Elsie._ She wiped the thought aside.

"But if you must know", she continued, for it didn't seem that he wanted to take the burden of saying anything, "I didn't believe that...since Alice...you were thinking about marriage at all." It was true, she hadn't, but she couldn't help to notice that there was a tiny spark of hope breaking its way through to her heart now. She wanted to prevent it from reaching its destiny, knowing that it was no reasonable feeling at all, but she couldn't.

"Well, it's not that I'm really thinking about it", Mr Carson confirmed what she had already known and her heart sank.  
"Or at least I haven't for a very long time... But now, when I'm going to retire someday, who knows?" She looked up at those words, more than surprised.

"Retire?", she asked, unable to hide her astonishment. "Mr Carson, surely you aren't thinking about retirement?"

"Not immediately", he conceded. "But I have to face it, I'm not as young as I used to be. And when Barrow's ready..." He trailed off, considered if he could dare to ask about her plans for the future. He was a bit afraid of what her answer might be. What if she told him she planned to move away, change her life entirely? The thought pierced his heart, but he had stopped to wonder at it. Deep within, Mr Carson had to admit that he knew exactly why the prospect of never seeing her again frightened him above any other, but he had to find out nevertheless.  
"What about you?", he asked therefore, hoping that she wouldn't notice the nervousness in his voice. To his surprise, Mrs Hughes smirked.

"Do you imply that I'm old, Mr Carson?", she replied questioningly, her eyebrows raised and the corners of her mouth curled teasingly.

"I would never, Mrs Hughes", he assured with an expression matching her own and she grinned even wider.

"Good", she said rather satisfied, "as I am in fact a couple of years younger than you. And who says I'm living to retire?"  
 _I can't_ , she added in thoughts, _who knows what I'm going to do when I finally have to..._  
Mr Carson noticed the sad undertone in that last remark, but misunderstood its meaning.

"I know what you mean", he said, assuming that she would be sad about having to leave Downton one day, just as he certainly was. "I can't even imagine what life without work at Downton will be like. I'm not sure I'll want to retire when the time finally comes", he admitted.

"Oh, it's not so much a question of not **wanting** to retire, Mr Carson", she told him and sighed. "As the things stand for me, I'm afraid I couldn't retire, even if I wanted to."

"What do you mean?", he asked bewildered. "Why not?"

"My sister", she simply stated and watched his face as the memory of when she had told him about Becky finally made him comprehend. "I can't retire. Not yet. Not for several years, actually", she explained sadly. It was a matter of fact, nothing to be done about it, but it burdened her nevertheless.  
"I guess I'll have to go on working for as long as anyone will let me. I need the money."

"And you're sure a pension wouldn't be sufficient?", he required, but she shook her head.

"I'm afraid not. Without any savings...Not as long as I have to take care of both of us on my own."

"And if you weren't on your own?"  
He heard himself say the words without having intended to, but now it was too late to take them back. And as he threw a glance at Mrs Hughes, she looked no less shocked than he would have expected.

"W-What was that?", she stammered, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

"I'm sorry", he quickly tried to dismiss it. "I'm not sure where that came from. Of course, I didn't mean- ", he trailed off, knowing that he wouldn't manage to navigate himself out of this anyway, so he could just as well stop to try.  
"I was just wondering", he therefore continued cautiously, "what if you were about to marry, for example?" It was quite a serious question for him, but Mrs Hughes only laughed.

"Anyone particular in mind?", she asked jokingly and he had no possibility than to go with it.

"Of course not", he replied, trying to sound as if the very idea would be simply ridiculous. "But...", he went on, for he didn't want to lose the topic, now that they had already come so far. "Did you never think about marriage for yourself? Apparently you must have thought about mine", he added and couldn't suppress a little smirk.

"Oh, don't mock me...", Mrs Hughes begged, but the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement as well. "As if that hadn't already been embarrassing enough..."

"No need to be", he assured her and she smiled.

"I did", she said then, serious again, answering his question. "But that was a long time ago. I believe that ship has sailed." She gave him a smile she hoped to express indifferent acceptance, but he didn't return it, just kept looking at her and she finally had to avert her gaze.

"I don't mean to be presumptuous, Mrs Hughes", she then heard his slow voice, "but...I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you."  
He saw the amazement in her eyes when they met his again and now it was his turn to be scrutinized by their blue depths. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and nervously waited for her to break the silence.

"You really surprise me today, Mr Carson", was what she told him then, her voice and expression absolutely impossible to read.

"But...that's a good thing...?"

"It is...", she confirmed slowly, eyes still fixed on his face. Then she stirred, blinked as if awaking from a trance and slightly shook her head.  
"But however", she went on rather carelessly, "even if there **was** a man who would still be...interested, I'm not sure he'd have a chance", she told him, laughing lightly.

"You mean?"

"After all this time in service, my standards are quite high, I'm afraid...", she replied explanatorily. "After what I had in front of my nose for so many years."

She just earned a questioning look from him, but decided that it was best to leave it there, for the time being, at least. So she simply smiled, reached across the bed and patted his hand.

"Perfection, Mr Carson", she said. "I've seen perfection..."  
 _It's sitting right in front of me..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just two little notes to warn you, so I hope no one will be annoyed or confused.  
> Number one. I know children of this time and in a family like the Crawleys were usually taught from very early age how to behave and what was appropriate to say and so on, but we can ignore that for the sake of a bit of fun with our favourite Butler, don't you think?  
> Number two. Don't wonder that dear Mrs Patmore seems to be a bit more relaxed with talking about...things...than we are used to from the series, but first of all I thought it would be not too out of character when she's alright as long as it's not too explicit and secondly I believe it's realistic that she's more comfortable talking to Mrs Hughes about such things than she was with Mr Carson, they're good friends after all and both female, that helps as well...hope you agree with me.
> 
> Enjoy reading and feel free to tell me what you thought about it!

The next day, Mr Carson had brought Mrs Hughes her breakfast, but she was still asleep when he arrived, so he just put the tray on her bedside table as quietly as possible and then went off to serve His Lordship upstairs. It was only Lord Grantham at the breakfast table, for Her Ladyship and Lady Mary as married women were served in their rooms, Lady Edith had had to go to London this morning in an urgent business of her magazine and Mr Branson had offered to drive her to the station.

"And how's Mrs Hughes today?", Robert enquired as Carson refilled his cup with steaming tea.

"I can't quite say, Mylord", the Butler replied truthfully. "I haven't spoken to her yet. But I plan to do so as soon as I've finished here."

"Very good." Lord Grantham took the cup and brought it to his lips while he fetched his newspaper with the other hand. He wanted to turn his attention to the printed letters, his eyes wandered over the headlines of some articles, but then something else came to his mind.

"Carson?", he said, putting the papers back down, "What was this matter between you and Her Ladyship yesterday?"

"Mylord?"

"Something she said about Mrs Hughes", Robert said slowly, apparently trying to recall the exact wording. "Do you remember?"

"I do, Mylord", Carson answered cautiously, not very eager to warm the subject again, but too set in his ways to be untruthful towards his employer.

"And?" Robert raised his eyebrows questioningly.  
"What was it about?"

Mr Carson had an idea, of course, but he liked to believe that Her Ladyship wouldn't lower herself to such acts of presumption, so he thought it best to assume himself that it had been nothing but an unfortunate choice of words from her side, unsettling him by pure chance and not deliberately.

"I really couldn't say, Your Lordship", he therefore stated rather evasively, but Robert didn't seem disappointed at all.

"Well, that's a relief", he declared. "I already thought it was just me who the meaning had passed by." He took another sip from his cup and unfolded the newspaper again.

"The subtleties of women", he laughed lightly, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the Butler. "Who is to understand them?"

"Indeed, Mylord", Carson agreed, quite relieved himself as Lord Grantham finally returned his full attention to his breakfast and the latest news.  
The next twenty minutes were spent in silence apart from the sound of tickling china and the occasional rustling of turned pages and when Robert finally got up and left the room, Carson followed him into the entrance hall.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Lordship?", he asked when Lord Grantham prepared to climb the big staircase.

"No, thank you, Carson", Robert said, stopping in his steps. "Go and take a look at our housekeeper. Tell Barrow he should have an eye on the entrance door today."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

To Carson's great relief and delight, he found Mrs Hughes awake and in rather high spirits. The night's sleep seemed to have done her good, her temperature was down and some colour had returned to her cheeks. Her breakfast had been already finished when he arrived and they had talked until now, matters of work - how Anna was getting along, that Mr Branson was still out to deliver Lady Edith, the graciousness of Lord and Lady Grantham granting him time to visit her. She was livelier than yesterday, laughed more, was more her usual self. But despite everything Mr Carson knew her well enough to sense that she still felt weak, so the request she expressed at some point surprised him and let him worry again.

"Would you mind helping me up, Mr Carson?", she said, leaving no time before already adjusting herself in an upright position.

"I think you should stay in bed as long as you are still unwell", he told her without restraint to let her know his view, but Mrs Hughes just smiled.

"I'm not unwell, Mr Carson", she contradicted him no less determined. "I'm feeling much better. And I don't want to run a marathon, just a little stroll. A bit of fresh air can't hurt", she submitted cheerfully and couldn't help but smile internally when she saw his expression, the typical "I'm-not-amused"-face when he didn't approve of something or his opinion was undermined. Nevertheless, he couldn't argue with her.

"I suppose not", he granted a bit grouchily, "but-"

"I'm fine!", she interrupted him, not impressed by his grumpiness - in fact, it was rather adorable that he apparently worried so much, she thought as she pushed her feet over the edge of the bed.  
"I've just been lying for a long time, it's no wonder I feel a bit unsteady on my feet", Mrs Hughes went on and looked up at him, watching in awe that these words seemed to have done something to him. His features softened and he stared at her for a moment, before he slightly shook his head and cleared his throat.

"Well then", he said slowly and stepped at her side, and she could have sworn that there was a slight smile hidden in the corners of his mouth, "to quote you, Mrs Hughes, you can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady."  
Now it was her turn to stare at him as she felt a wide smile spreading across her face.  
 _He does still remember that?_ **She** did, as clear as day - the warmth of the sun on her face, the sand between her toes, the water that washed around her ankles, and his hand, the grip of his fingers around hers...

"You're right", she said and bit on her lip to prevent the smile from turning into a smirk.

"About what?", he asked confused and Mrs Hughes needed all her composure to suppress a very un-ladylike giggle when she answered.

"That **does** sound a little risqué, doesn't it?"

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"Well...this is nice", Mrs Hughes said happily when she sat down on a bench in sight of the Abbey. "A change of perspective and some air and sun." She looked up at Mr Carson standing beside her a bit awkwardly, indecisive if to sit down as well or not.  
"Aren't you needed at the House?", she said compassionately, assuming that the call of his work was the cause of his restless state.

"I should check if Mr Branson has returned, I suppose", he mumbled a bit absent-mindedly. "And I haven't done the morning round yet...but that can wait", he added to her surprise. She had already been aware of it yesterday, the unusual way in which he was taking his work more lightly than he used to do puzzled her. She knew him to be the kind of responsible servant for whom the house and the family always came first. To be honest, she had never understood his devotion for the Crawleys, but she respected it and the fact that his vocation would always be the uppermost was just as much a part of him as his deep voice she liked so much, or the bushy eyebrows that rose in shock about something he considered inappropriate.  
The first time she had wondered that he stayed with her instead of returning downstairs, she had dismissed it as coincidence. When it happened again, she told herself it was nothing but her imagination. But by now, she couldn't ignore it anymore, or the totally unfounded and surely presumptuous hopes it woke and that she desperately tried to put aside.  
She feared he might think that he needed to change for her, somehow, that he felt a sort of duty towards her - as Butler being responsible for the rest of the staff, of course.  
But there was no need at all, she lov-...liked him the way he was and didn't want him trying to be someone he was not just out of a stupid obligation that wasn't there.

"No, it can't!", she therefore contradicted him as insistently as possible, but he didn't look convinced.  
"It's alright, you can just leave me here, I'll be fine." She tried to manage a reassuring smile to persuade him, but it was of no use.

"I'm not thinking about it!", Mr Carson replied no less determined, giving her a look that was clearly accusing her of being irresponsible. "I won't leave you alone out here, not while you're still unwell", he told her, as if the very idea were simply ridiculous.

"I told you I was better". It was a poor argument, she knew, but his tone had left little room for contradiction.

"Better is not **well** , Mrs Hughes", he stated, still firm but softer. "And I won't accept anything but a full recovery."

"Then send someone, at least", Mrs Hughes tried, knowing that he wouldn't change his mind but for a compromise.  
"Mrs Patmore, perhaps", she suggested, "one of the maids...I really can't keep the head of the household all to myself the whole time..." He seemed a little embarrassed at this implication, just as she was, but she was glad about it, for he lowered his eyes to the ground for a moment and didn't refuse what she had suggested.  
"Speaking of it...", she went on, taking the chance, "I just wanted to thank you for keeping me company yesterday...and today as well. I know you're busy and I wanted to make sure that you know how much your efforts were appreciated." He gazed back at her, wringing his hands, but smiling. Almost...shy, she would have called it if she wouldn't have known better.

"I can assure you, it was no effort at all."

"But still-" Mr Carson silenced her with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Really, Mrs Hughes, it was my pleasure entirely", he assured, "It still is."  
Both fell silent after this declaration, neither knowing what to say, until Mrs Hughes finally managed to take the initiative.

"Oh, go on now!", she quickly changed the subject. "See if Mrs Patmore has a minute to spare. She shouldn't be too busy at this time of day."

"If you insist..."

"I do!", she confirmed as light-heartedly as possible. "Now, off with you!"

"Alright", he finally agreed reluctantly, turned in the direction of the Abbey and took a few steps towards it, only to stop again before he had even made his way past the bench.  
"But you stay here", he said, half question, half order, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Of course", she laughed, "where should I go, anyway?"

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"Do you have children, Mr Carson?"

The little girl looked up at him where he was standing in the nursery. Miss Sybbie had insisted to wait for Mr Branson when Nanny wanted to go outside and he had agreed to look after her for a while, so that the others could already go ahead. Little had he known that she would confront him with a flood of questions, piercing him with those curious blue eyes that reminded him so very much of her mother.

"No...", he said, "no, I-I don't."

"Why not?"

"Well, you see...", he slowly began, considering how to explain it best, "my work is very important and takes a lot of time. Butlers usually don't have a wife or children. We take care of the family we serve, it's difficult to have one of your own then. The members of the staff are in some sort like the children of a Butler", he told her and Sybbie nodded, wrinkling her eyebrows rather sweetly as she thought about his words.

"But you like children?", she then asked seriously.

"Of course, I do", he answered truthfully and leaned down. "I certainly like **you** very much", he smiled at her and playfully pricked his finger in her stomach. Sybbie squeaked in joy and laughed when he tried to tickle her.

"I like you too", she giggled a bit out of breath when he finally released her. Then she sat upright on the edge of her bed and scrutinized him with the enquiring look of a child that thought about something she considered to be serious.

"I think you should be married", she suddenly declared, taking Carson by surprise. "Papa says people are happier when they're married", she went on, unaware of the Butler's slight uneasiness. "And I want you to be happy", she finished with a bright smile that warmed his heart.

"You know, Miss Sybbie...", he began slowly, soothed by her sweet naivety, "marriage is a very serious matter. If you marry you do it because you love each other, and your Papa is right, that certainly makes you very happy, but you have to find the right person", Carson explained, quite pleased with himself.

"And you haven't", she detected, more an observation than a question.  
"Who would be the right person for you, Mr Carson?", she then asked frankly and despite the subject of the question, he couldn't help but smile at her childlike innocence that still allowed her to say whatever came to her mind. And what was the matter with giving this sweet little girl an answer, anyway?

"Well..." He thought about what to say, as this wasn't something one discussed every day, after all. There was irrevocably the image of a certain someone coming to his mind, however, and as much as he would have liked to deny it, he had to admit that it didn't actually surprise him at all.  
"She should be nice and witty, of course", he began, her soft Scottish lilt echoing in his ears. "Know her own mind, but be also kind and funny...and pretty perhaps, although that's always in the eye of the observer", he finished and Sybbie nodded genuinely, staring in the air in front of her for a moment, as if concentratedly considering something. Then a smile spread across her face, announcing the idea that had just come to her mind.

"Mrs Hughes is pretty, don't you think, Mr Carson?"  
For a moment, he thought - he hoped - that he had misunderstood, that his ears had played a trick on him because he had been thinking of her, but Sybbie watched him expectantly and he knew he was hoping in vain.

"Well, yes...I suppose...", he stuttered, finally unsettled after all.

"And she's nice and funny too", Sybbie went on completely unimpressed and straightforward as ever. "I like her as well. Maybe you should marry her. Then you would both be happy", she declared cheerfully and Mr Carson could just stare at the little girl in front of him, asking himself how this had escalated so quickly and desperately trying to think of anything appropriate to answer...

...when suddenly Lady Mary and Tom Branson entered the room, causing a relieved sigh to escape his throat.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"It's so nice of you to keep me company", Mrs Hughes said to her friend who had just sat down on the bench beside her.

"Oh no", Mrs Patmore dismissed it quickly and gave Elsie's hand a little squeeze, "I'm glad to have a short break from work, get out of the kitchen. And Mr Carson insisted", she said, eyebrows raised meaningfully, "Yes, he...was very persuasive." Mrs Hughes laughed lightly at this, not surprised in the least.

"I bet he was", she said and rolled her eyes, making the cook smile. "He seems to think I can't be left alone for two seconds without running the risk that I drop dead."

"He's just worried", Mrs Patmore gave her to consider. "Remember the last time you were...not well. I don't think I've ever seen Mr Carson in such distress."

Mrs Hughes remembered it very well, of course, for two reasons. It had obviously been one of the most terrifying times of her life, this constant insecurity if she would have to face an untimely end in the near future, the pressure of keeping it to herself as not to burden her friends and family with her troubles.  
Then the relief when it had all been over, Mrs Patmore's smile when they were told. And one of her most clear and precious memories, Mr Carson, humming to himself while he polished the silver. She could still hear his voice when she concentrated, the melody echoing in her ears as if it had been yesterday. _Dashing away with the smoothing iron, dashing away with the smoothing iron, dashing away with the smoothing iron, she stole my heart away..._

"Yes", she admitted, unable to suppress a fond smile, "but the circumstances were completely different then, Mrs Patmore. You can hardly compare the potential for cancer with a bit of fever", she went on, earning a reproachful look from the cook.  
"Oh, don't look at me that way...", she said a little glum and sighed. "I don't know, it just seems all a bit too much fuss for me."

"I don't think he sees it that way."

"I don't want to sound ungrateful", Mrs Hughes assured her friend truthfully. "I'm very appreciative, really, and I can't deny that I enjoy his company", she admitted and lowered her eyes to the ground, not without noticing the smile forming on the other women's face from the corner of her eye.

"He cares very much about you", Mrs Patmore said and was a little amused to see a slight blush creeping up her friend's cheeks.

"Well, not **that** much", the housekeeper tried to play it down, without much success.

"Enough to leave the house to Barrow", the cook replied with this meaningful look again.  
"He **does** care about you, Mrs Hughes, very much indeed", she repeated softly, but left no doubt that she was convinced of her words.

"As do I about him", Mrs Hughes stated, trying to sound unimpressed by what the other was obviously implying. "Of course, we do, we're friends and have worked together for such a long time..." She could see that Mrs Patmore wasn't to be persuaded by this poor attempt of hers, so she thought it best to quickly change the subject and hopefully avoid further inquiries about the nature of her relationships.  
"Did you know he was thinking about retirement?", she therefore went on, speaking of the first thing coming to her mind that might be of enough interest to distract the woman opposite. As expected, the question was of immediate effect.

"What?", Mrs Patmore asked doubtingly, "Mr Carson retiring?" She shook her head in surprise and disbelief. "I fear that these two things don't want to fit together in my head."

"I know what you mean", Mrs Hughes agreed, seeing her own reaction to the news mirrored on the cook's face. "I was very surprised as well when he told me. Oh, and please", she begged suddenly when something came to her mind, "don't say anything, I don't believe he wants anyone to know yet."

"Of course..."  
They fell silent for a moment, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Mrs Patmore recalled the morning of the day before and asked herself why she hadn't guessed what was the matter. What had Mr Carson said again? _Barrow has to learn to take over my duties at some point. At some point, yes, but..._

"I can't imagine Downton without him", the quiet voice of Mrs Hughes brought the cook back from her thoughts and she nodded.

"Neither can I", she agreed, still a bit absent-minded. "It's a strange thought, that's for sure", she went on, as if talking more to herself, "And I never thought-" Too late did she realize that she had been speaking out loud and quickly broke off, but Mrs Hughes sensed that she was holding back something she had wanted to say.

"Never thought what?", she asked, curious and just a little suspicious.

"Well I- I didn't think he would go without you", Mrs Patmore told her, very aware how much this startled the housekeeper. She sat up a little straighter and moved uncomfortably, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

"Whatever makes you say that?", she asked -a habit of hers, the cook knew, a phrase she used when she tried to hide the fact that she had indeed an idea of what the other was talking about. But Mrs Patmore also knew that she would never admit it so easily, so she decided to speak more frankly herself.

"Oh, never mind me", she laughed lightly. "I'm just a silly old cook who would like to see some love stories in her old age", she said innocently, unable to suppress a smirk when her friend's eyes widened.

"Love stories?", Mrs Hughes repeated, her shock half real, half playful. "Beryl Patmore!"

"Well, I'm sorry Mrs Hughes", the cook said straightforwardly, seeing no sense in pretence or denial, "but you make it quite easy for me to develop some assumptions. Those looks that you share..." She threw an almost reproachful glance at her friend for making it so less of a challenge for her.  
"I'm sorry if I'm wrong, but I don't believe I am", she finished and although Mrs Hughes' next words told another story, her face gave her away.

"Really now", the housekeeper scolded her friend, unaware that it sounded rather poor with the revealing colour on her cheek, "I honestly don't know what you mean-"

"I think you do...", Mrs Patmore interrupted her, smiling fondly, "And well, let's just say I think it's rather wonderful."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"Carson, what are you doing in here?"

Lady Mary Crawley had stopped in the doorway, the surprise obvious on her face to find the room occupied completely different than she had expected.

"I came across the nursery on my rounds, Mylady", the Butler explained, quickly gathering himself, eager not to let it show how unsettled he had been before the two young adults had entered. "Nanny planned to take the children outside for a walk, but Miss Sybbie wanted to wait for Mr Branson, so I offered to have an eye on her until you return."

"That's very kind", Lady Mary said, sounding slightly astonished that Mr Carson would agree to overtake such a task that didn't match his position, but pleased nonetheless.

"Not at all, Mylady", Mr Carson said, throwing a glance at the little girl at his side. "Miss Sybbie and I had an interesting conversation, didn't we?", he dared to say and Sybbie gave him a wide smile in return.

"Interesting, indeed?", Mary repeated with curiously raised eyebrows, but -to Carson's relief- asked no further questions about what the substance might have been.

"Yes!", Sybbie told her aunt with a gravitas that made everyone in the room smile amusedly. "And it's a secret", she declared further and thew an expectant glance at Mr Carson, smiling satisfied when the Butler nodded in consent, happy to obey the sweet girl's wishes.

"Secrets with the Butler", Mr Branson smiled fondly at his daughter, "you must be a very important person, dear Sybbie", he said in played seriousness and the little girl grinned proudly.  
"But come on now, my darling", her father went on, waving her towards him, "We must let Mr Carson get on with his work."

They all left the nursery and made their way in the direction of the grand staircase, Sybbie carried by Mr Branson while Lady Mary walked at Carson's side.

"We haven't seen much of you yesterday, Carson", she noted as they began descending the stairs. "I asked Barrow and he told me you had ordered him to take over. There's nothing out of order, I hope?"

"Oh, nothing to concern you, Mylady", the Butler assured her, but she didn't look convinced, and Carson, who had always had a soft spot for Mary anyway, couldn't help but go on to dispel her doubts.  
"I've just been a bit worried about Mrs Hughes", he admitted slowly, feeling that he had no choice but to be truthful towards her. "I'm not quite...comfortable when she's not around. After so many years of working together", he added quickly, as not to give her the wrong impression.  
 _Or the right one..._ , a little sensible voice in the back of his head whispered, but he eagerly put it aside.

"Of course", Mary replied, thinking it only natural to cherish a working relationship that had been built over such a long time.

"How is she?", Tom enquired from behind, who had followed the conversation.

"Better", Mr Carson replied as they reached the entrance hall and stopped in their walk. "But not as well as I would like it. She's in the garden with Mrs Patmore", he told them and gestured towards the front door. "I hope you don't mind, Mylady, I told her to stay in bed, but she insisted on getting up for some fresh air and I didn't want to leave her alone."

"No, of course not. That was very thoughtful of you, Carson", Lady Mary agreed immediately and the Butler straightened his shoulders rather proudly at her compliment.

"I'm sorry if I've been a little distracted because of it", he said, surprised himself how confident he felt about it, that he wasn't ashamed at all. "But I've seen to it that everything is organized."

"Oh, nonsense", Lary Mary interrupted him warmly. "We know you would never allow our standards to suffer, Carson", she assured him with a smile he returned confirmatory.  
"Barrow has done quite a good job, I must say, after what I've seen until now."

"I should hope so, Mylady. I trained him", Carson replied seriously. Despite everything one could have to say about Thomas Barrow, Carson couldn't deny that he was a good worker and he appreciated that he seemed to have taken at least some advice and learned his lessons. As long as the family had nothing to complain, neither had he.

"Perhaps you should see to Mrs Hughes for the rest of the day", Mr Branson suddenly considered. "She's an appreciated member of this household and this family. It's important to us that she recovers as quickly as possible", he explained in both the Butler's and Mary's direction, as they looked at him with questioningly raised eyebrows.  
 _And she seems to be important to_ _ **him**_ , he tried to tell Mary through meaningful looks, hoping that she would understand and support him, for her dear Mr Carson's sake.

"That's very nice of you to offer, Mr Branson", the man in question replied carefully, about to decline just as Tom had expected, "but I'm not sure if-"

"Indeed, Carson", Mary broke him off, not sure what Tom wanted to achieve with this, but getting that he wanted her to agree with him. She had never been able to warm with the housekeeper, but she knew that Tom had a special bond to Mrs Hughes, not unlike the one she shared with the Butler. So, whatever had provoked him, she could easily go with it to please Tom - completely unsuspecting of her brother-in-law's true reasons.  
"I agree with Mr Branson", she therefore told the Butler as light-heartedly as possible. "Of course, you should. We'll have no problems managing with Barrow for a little while."

"Well...if you're sure, Mylady..."

"I am", she assured him insistently and Carson bowed his head in obedient agreement.  
"Very well", she said then, "I fear we must be off now. Nanny will wonder where we are. Tom? Sybbie?"

"I'll go in the garden as well, then", the Butler announced. "Mrs Patmore should be back in the kitchen by now anyway."

"Papa?", he heard Sybbie's pleading voice from behind when he opened the front door, "Can we go and see after Mrs Hughes on our way to George and Marigold? Please?"

"Why not?", her father said cheerfully, looking forward to seeing his favourite staff member no less than his daughter. "If you want to. Mary?"

"Sure", she replied before she stepped outside through the door Carson was holding for her. "I'll go to George and tell Nanny where you are, then. Send my best wishes to Mrs Hughes", she asked Carson when he closed the door behind him, Tom and Sybbie.

"I certainly will, Mylady. Thank you."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"Mrs Hughes!" It was barely two minutes after she had forced Mrs Patmore back into her kitchen under the assurance that Mr Carson should soon be back from his rounds, that Mrs Hughes heard to her great astounding the excited and cheerful voice of Sybbie Branson echoing over the grass of the Downton grounds. She turned her head in delight and spotted the little girl as she neared her from the house, running ahead impatiently, soon followed by her father and, indeed, Mr Carson.

"Good day, Miss Sybbie", the housekeeper greeted her little visitor with a wide smile. "How nice to see you out here."

"We came to see you", the girl told her proudly. "Mr Carson told Papa and me that you were here", she explained and with shining blue eyes threw a glance at the two men as they reached her.

"Oh" Mrs Hughes raised her eyebrows, pleasantly surprised, "it's very nice of you and your Papa to come." She shared a smile with Tom while Sybbie mounted the bench beside her.

"You're not too ill, are you?", she asked, suddenly very serious, scrutinizing her from head to toe as if to spot every visible sign of possible sickness.

"Oh no, don't you worry, Mylady", the housekeeper told her warmly, touched by the little one's concern. "I'm sure I'll be back to work before you know it." That seemed to be enough for Miss Sybbie, the radiant smile returned to her face and she slightly wobbled up and down to catalyse her happiness at her favourite staff member's assurance.

"I like your hair", she then declared cheerfully, and completely carelessly torn out of context as only a child is able to manage. "It's pretty like this", she went on, stroking over the unusual braid with her fingers. The atmosphere she radiated was so sweet and carefree that her next words, though spoken almost absent-mindedly and without intending to cause the following effect, they startled the three adults even more. "Mr Carson thinks you're pretty too, he told me."

Mr Branson looked between the two of them, Mrs Hughes between shock and astonishment, perhaps a hint of disbelief, Mr Carson not even describable - surprise, shock - horror, almost, -and dawning embarrassment. Tom felt some of those emotions as well - surprise, mostly - but clearly not in equal measure as the Butler and housekeeper, so no one should wonder that he was the first to regain his consciousness enough to speak reasonably composed.  
"Alright", he interfered and cleared his throat, hoping to sound not too alarmed to unsettle the other two further, "time to search the others. Nanny should be out here somewhere with George and Marigold. Come on, Sybbie", he said, believing it would be best if he withdrew from the scene, allowed them space and privacy. One look at Mr Carson was sufficient to know that the poor man was already in enough of a state, without needing anyone to witness it. But his daughter, after she had unintentionally caused the whole situation and still unaware of having caused anything at all, foiled his plan as innocently as ever.  
Tom would have had to smile at her, at Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson, at the whole scene, if the other man's ears wouldn't have been so revealingly red. If he was honest with himself, Tom even enjoyed this a little, for several reasons. Seeing the always so composed and dignified Butler a little unsettled was quite...nice. He knew he had a softer side underneath the Butler-persona, but he had barely ever actually **seen** it, he didn't really know him...the only thing that usually told him to believe that Mr Carson was not as unapproachable as it seemed was his instinct and what he had been told by Mary and Mrs Hughes.  
Mrs Hughes. He knew **her** , though, he trusted her. And she had always had a special connection to the Butler Tom couldn't quite understand. She was such a warm, open and kind woman, why should she care for someone who seemed to be the complete opposite? She wouldn't, so the reasonable conclusion was that Mr Carson had a different side to him he knew to hide quite successfully, a side he showed only to a selected group of people, above all his best friend and long-time colleague, the witty Scottish housekeeper. Tom had had his suspicions for quite some time now, had looked for little hints if there could be more than simple friendship between the two heads of staff and could also report that he had not seldom found what he was looking for. The last few days had been especially satisfying in this matter, the time Carson took off to look after her the first day she needed to stay in bed, how distracted he had been when he was working, the concern he had shown when asked about her well-being, and now this. _Mr Carson thinks you're pretty, too_ , Sybbies voice echoed in his head and he just managed to suppress an amused but fond smile when the real voice of his daughter brought him back from his thoughts.

"Wait, wait, wait!", she exclaimed, making no move to leave her seat at Mrs Hughes' side.

"What else?", he asked, torn between amusement and his own curiosity, along with empathy and a slightly uncomfortable feeling to be present in a moment of someone else's embarrassment.

"There's something I need to tell Mr Carson!", Sybbie declared completely unaffected and her unawareness would have been funny if her words wouldn't have caused Tom's other emotions to be replaced by concern.  
 _Oh, goodness_ , he thought, _what's to come_ _ **now**_ _?_ She wasn't going to make things worse, was she?

"Really, Sybbie, we should-", Tom tried, beginning to sound a bit desperate, but was interrupted by what he had least expected. The voice of Mr Carson, calm as always, at first appearances - only Mrs Hughes, knowing him as well as she did, could tell that he had a little difficulty to gather his composure. In the seconds Tom had needed to gather his thoughts, Mr Carsone had decided that, in order to maintain -or at least restore- his dignity, it was best to just ignore the startling revelation and to cover up the embarrassment that came with it to the best of his ability.

"It's alright, Mr Branson", he therefore said quite friendly and nodded at Tom in grateful acknowledgement before he turned to the little girl. "Go on, Miss Sybbie", he encouraged her, even with a little smile. "What is it?"

"You have to give Mrs Hughes a kiss!", Tom heard his daughter declare determinedly and wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole. "That's what my Papa does when I'm not well", she beamed at him and Tom managed a shaky smile in return. _Dear God..._

"I do, darling, but that's what fathers do to their children", he explained warmly, hoping that it would make her leave it there.

"But Mr Carson told me that he was like a father to all of the servants at Downton!" _Fantastic._

"Well, you see...", he tried slowly, unsure how to go on now, "I'm sure he didn't mean-"

"Don't bother yourself, Mr Branson", the Butler put him out of his misery a second time. It seemed almost as if the roles had been reversed, now Tom was the embarrassed one and Mr Carson looked completely calm and almost amused. "I see that Doctor Sybbie seems to be quite established in her knowledge", he went on and, to everybody's amazement, actually winked at the little girl, "and who am I to argue with such an experienced opinion?" Sybbie giggled happily and nodded, pleased to agree.

"As Mylady commands." Mr Carson bowed to Sybbie and made a few steps to stand in front of Mrs Hughes and Tom could only watch, dumbstruck, when he bent down.

Mrs Hughes had been very silent during the whole conversation. She did not dare to say a word, and she wasn't even sure if she could have if she wanted to. Too much of a mess had Sybbie's first declaration set off in her, her emotions muddled and her brain apparently not able to unravel them. Like in a daze did she follow what occurred between Tom and Mr Carson, heard how Sybbie suggested and how Mr Carson **agreed** , and watched how he then stepped towards her, a little puzzled but soft look in his eyes. She didn't know what to make of it, surely, he wasn't really going to..-? But yes, it seemed he was, and it didn't help to clear her head in the least.

"Mr Carson", she whispered -a wonder that she had found her voice at all- but so that only he was able to hear, "you really don't need to-" But he silenced her with a little shaking of his head and a soothing smile, clearly saying that she shouldn't fret about it. So she closed her mouth, kept still and closed her eyes as she felt him pressing a kiss to her forehead. It was just a brush of his lips, quick, but, as she discovered with wonder, nevertheless a little longer than it might have had to be...for a moment, her eyes locked with Mr Carson's as he leaned back and she thought to notice a spark in them, she couldn't quite put her finger on it, a spark of-

"And are you feeling better, Mrs Hughes?", Sybbie asked her cheerfully, and the moment was over. Feeling a bit dizzy, Mrs Hughes looked away from whatever had captivated her and slightly shook her head in an attempt to clear it before she turned her attention to the girl at her side.

"Oh yes!", she assured her enthusiastically. "Better already! Thank you very much, Mr Carson", she said with only a quick glance at him, for everything else would have been playing with fire, "and you, Miss Sybbie, for your advanced medical abilities", she finished, laughing lightly to cover up the state of confusion she found herself in.

"Very well...", Mr Branson said, sounding relieved, "come along now, Sybbie." And finally, she did, waved them goodbye, and off she went, without a clue what a turmoil she had created inside the ones she left behind.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

That evening, Mr Carson lay in bed for a long time, eyes open, staring at a ceiling he couldn't see in the darkness. His mind was too occupied to find sleep. They hadn't talked about it afterwards, he had just cleared his throat, had escorted her back to her room and that was it. But now he recalled the scene in the garden for the billionth time, asking himself what could have provoked him to this foolishness. And then in front of Mr Branson-  
But then again, he couldn't deny that he didn't regret it, not really, anyway. He probably should, but...

Absentmindedly, Mr Carson let his fingertips stroke over his lips, remembering the feeling when he had touched her soft skin. The scent of her hair. The slight blush on her cheeks when he leaned back again...  
It had been...nice. No, good. Better than he dared to admit. Natural, somehow...as if he had been meant to do that for a very long time...

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

A few doors away, the fingertips of a Scottish housekeeper brushed over her forehead.  
 _Why?_ , she asked herself. The same question she had asked the whole evening, without getting even a little closer to the answer.  
 _Why did he do it?_ It was not like him at all, and with Mr Branson witnessing everything...  
But then, thinking about it, it had been harmless, actually. An innocent act of affection, no deeper meaning, no reason to stir up hopes again. It was the easier way to please Miss Sybbie, that was all, as much as she would have liked to imagine that something else had provoked him.  
And it was not impossible to imagine, she had to admit. The softness in his eyes, the soothing smile when she poorly attempted to stop him... But no. Mrs Hughes shook her head to chase away the images that began to form before her inner eye in the darkness. She was foolish. It was all in her mind, wishful thinking- it had to be.  
She rolled on her side and closed her eyes. _Yes_ , she decided, _I won't think about it any further. He will be glad if we just go on as if nothing had happened. And nothing did happen, after all, did it?_ Nothing that mattered, anyway. Everything would stay the same.  
But she would have this memory, she told herself with a smile. When she would wake up in the morning, nothing would have changed. And that was alright. It was good the way it was, wasn't it?  
However, here, in the privacy of her chamber and the dark of the night, it couldn't hurt anyone when she allowed herself to indulge in the illusion of Mr Carson kissing her because he **wanted** to...

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

When Charles Carson finally fell asleep, he dreamed. It wasn't even a very extraordinary dream, not for most people, at least. But Charles certainly wasn't most people.  
When he awoke, he knew. No, that was not quite it. He had known for a very long time now. When he awoke, he **admitted** that he knew. And he needed her to know as well.  
The only thing he didn't know was...how?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say that I needed some time to make out how I wanted to continue. The path I finally followed was actually the first idea I had, but I was slightly unsure about how realistic it was and if I would know how to write it - maybe that sounds stupid but all fellow writers know about our foolish insecurities:)  
> But anyway, finally I decided that I liked the idea of Sybbie demanding a kiss just too much not to use it, so I sat to work and wrote it and rewrote it and rewrote it and finally decided to just publish it because I'd never have stopped rewriting it otherwise. Not sure if the emotional changes were comprehensible but I need to stop lamenting now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll like it and find especially Mrs Hughes still in character, that's very important to me and I'm always totally thrilled when someone tells me they believe I get them and their voices.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

Mrs Hughes couldn't help rolling her eyes a bit desperately at his persistence, although, she had to admit, she found it rather endearing somehow.

"As I keep telling you for the last ten minutes, yes, Mr Carson, I **am** sure", she replied, torn between giving him a reproachful look and an amused smile.  
She had slept very well that night. _Might have something to do with the dream you had after thinking about that nice- Shht!_ , she quickly silenced her own head. This was neither the time nor place for such thoughts, provided that she should have them at all.  
She was in Mr Carson's pantry early in the morning to let him know that she planned to go back to work today. She had meant to just quickly inform him and then get on immediately as there would surely be much to do after her short absence - but what she hadn't foreseen was that he would try to talk her out of it since she had announced it.

"But it's only been two days, Mrs Hughes...", he said now, for the second time in this increasingly annoying conversation.

"Really, you surprise me, Mr Carson", she told him, deciding to go with the reproach she hoped he wouldn't notice was at least partly feigned. "I expected you to be the first to encourage me to go back to work as soon as possible."

Satisfied, she watched how these words startled him the exact way she had intended. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, apparently realising that he couldn't argue with that. What she didn't know was that he could have, though, but not without revealing too much.

"Of course, I will be glad to have you back downstairs", he said slowly, cautious not to give anything away by making his worry too obvious. "You know I am."

He seemed a little distressed, and although Mrs Hughes hadn't really been cross with him, her eyes softened even more now, and she took a careful step in his direction, hesitating for a moment, but then - gathering her courage - she dared to put her hand on his arm soothingly.

"I do", she confirmed warmly. "And I thank you for your concern. But I'm fine", she assured him insistently. "Honestly, I feel perfectly well. And I promise to take things easy, alright? Just...trust me..?", she said, half asking, half instructing - a plea.

"Always", Mr Carson finally gave in sincerely, softened by the tone of her voice as well as the look in her eyes. He just couldn't deny her anything she asked, he knew well enough, and the grateful smile he received made up for every worry in the world.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"Beryl Patmore!"

Mr Carson was startled from the wine he was just filtering through a cloth by the sound of a familiar voice echoing through the corridors right to his pantry. Alarmed and also slightly curious, he put the bottle down, got up and peeked around the corner in the direction of the kitchen, where the sound apparently came from.

"What must I hear?", he heard the annoyed voice, the Scottish lilt more penetrating than usually. "Two days away and I return to find the pillars of my principles questioned!"

Mr Carson couldn't suppress the corners of his mouth wrinkling into an amused smile when he heard that - she could always become so theatrical when she was angry, and he had to admit that he rather liked it - found it adorable even, as long as her rage wasn't directed towards him...  
He made his way to the place of action and threw a glance through the door to find the addressed cook looking at the housekeeper a little distraught.

"Anna tells me you tried to talk her into giving you the keys to the store cupboard!", Mrs Hughes clarified very reproachfully. "You know exactly that's never going to happen", she said, accentuating every word, "Not as long as I'm housekeeper here!"

"Alright, alright...I see", Mrs Patmore tried to calm her down, raising her hands defensively.

"I should hope so", Mrs Hughes replied, eyebrows raised, underpinning her words.  
"And that you don't forget it again as soon as I'm out of sight", she finished scoldingly, but the little twitch in the corner of her mouth told the cook that the matter was settled now and everything alright, so Mrs Patmore nodded and gave a confirmatory smile in return.

With a deep, final breath, the housekeeper turned around without noticing Mr Crason standing in the doorway, but she **did** indeed see Thomas, lurking in a corner as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a rather smug expression on his face he wasn't even trying to hide.  
"And what are you smirking at, Mr Barrow?", Mrs Hughes asked as she stood in front of him. "I should think the responsibilities of an underbutler would bestow you with more important duties", she stated meaningfully, watching Thomas who just looked back at her for a moment, remaining in his position - then he threw a glance to the floor, smiled innocently as he looked back up and straightened himself.

"Indeed, Mrs Hughes", he smiled confirmatory, turned around and left the room, obviously indignant that he had been reprimanded.

Mr Carson, however, couldn't have been more pleased with the scene he witnessed.  
 _Isn't she incredible_?, it shot through his head unintentionally and he quickly wiped the thought aside as the woman in question stepped out of the kitchen and approached him, for he feared that his feelings might be written on his face, an open book for her to read. Thankfully, that didn't seem to be the case, or if she spotted anything, she didn't let it show.

"I see you've settled back in", Mr Carson said when she reached him, a hint of amusement in his voice that told her he had apparently overheard the recent conversation.

"And not a second too soon, I should say", she replied with a meaningful glance down the corridor. "Anna is more than a worthy replacement, of course, but the rest of the staff seems to be eager to gain advantages from my absence by testing her - and my patience right along with it!"  
He smiled fondly, the little amused twitch around the corner of his mouth finally making her smile as well.

"I'm glad you're back, Mrs Hughes", he said calmly, looking down at her.

"So am I, Mr Carson", she sighed, "so am I."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Mrs Hughes sat at her desk when a knock surprised her. It was evening, an early one today to the delight of the staff, who had all already retreated upstairs, as she had thought. When she turned around, she saw Mr Carson standing in the door of her sittingroom, the sight sending a mixture of delight, anticipation and nervous insecurity through her body.

"Everything back in order?", he asked, remaining in the doorframe.

"I would say so", she replied. "I do hope I've still got enough authority in my old age to bring Mrs Patmore back in line, thank you very much", she told him, half reproach, half amusement. He looked down and chuckled slightly, and she was glad about it so he couldn't see the shiver running down her spine at the sound.

"I would never doubt it", he assured her when his eyes met hers again and their gazes locked for a moment, both remaining silent and staring just a little longer than would have been appropriate, until they suddenly looked away at the same time, smiling a little embarrassed, unaware that their own action was mirrored by the other.  
Mr Carson kept standing in the doorframe, unsure if to retire or ask her if he could come in. He was still considering the best way to proceed, when Mrs Hughes came ahead of him.

"Would you like to sit down for a moment, Mr Carson?", she asked cautiously, a fond smile on her lips for she felt his insecurity was matching her own. "Can I offer you something? Tea? Or a sherry perhaps?", she suggested, finding support in the familiarity of the ritual they had kept up for so many years.

"If you don't mind", he agreed quietly, eager not to let show the amount of his delight at her invitation and the prospect of spending time with her alone - a circumstance that occurred so rarely and was highly valued by both of them. "That would be lovely..."

She gestured invitingly towards a chair at the little table in one of the corners of her sitting room and Mr Carson stepped in and closed the door behind him.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

The evening went by, they talked about this and that, all harmless subjects, both eager to stay in safe territory and unaware that the other was leading the conversation the same way. They started with tea, one cup, two. At some point, they had moved on to wine in Mr Carson's pantry. He had to test it anyway for a dinner the family would give this weekend, so he thought it a good opportunity. It was only half a glass each, not nearly enough to have a significant effect, but still, their tongues seemed to become lighter as the hour went by, the two adults more at ease and the conversation more carefree.

"I know I said it before, but I'm really glad you're back", Mr Carson sighed at one point, putting his empty glass aside when the world outside had almost completely darkened.

"It's only been two days, Mr Carson", Mrs Hughes said teasingly, but the fond smile on her lips gave her away. "Two days during which we even saw each other more than usual, if I might be so bold to point that out." She bit on her lip as she saw the Butler lowering his gaze and blushing slightly.

"I know, I know...", he said to the hands in his lap, "It's just that we are a good team, you and I. Working together, I mean", he added quickly, looking back up.

"I believe we are", she confirmed and thought to notice how he immediately sat a little more upright at her words. "But as it seems, I'll have to get used to getting along without you, won't I?", she then dared to say with a little sad smile and his content expression disappeared as well, his brow furrowing instead.  
"All this talking about marriage and retirement...", Mrs Hughes went on explanatory, "I know you said it was of no immediate consideration but...if you don't mind me asking, what are you planning to do after you retire? Have you any ideas about the hows and wheres?"

"I have indeed", Mr Carson nodded. "Settling on the estate, as you can surely imagine. A cottage, perhaps", he told her and continued with an almost abashed look, "I hope you're not disappointed. Those prospects aren't very adventurous, I'm afraid."

"Not at all", Mrs Hughes quickly contradicted him truthfully. "Quite the contrary", she assured, "I'm glad to hear you intend to stay." It couldn't hurt to confess that, could it?

"Don't say you're going to miss me", he mumbled quietly.

"I will, Mr Carson", she said without hesitation or reserve, "very much so and it costs me nothing to admit it." She received a smile she considered to be genuinely happy, so she was just as glad to return it. Despite everything she might have to accept would never be between them, they still had a good and solid relationship, a friendship.  
"I hoped that you wouldn't go far away so one can see each other from time to time", she told him truthfully, an amused smile spreading across her face when she went on, "but I thought you might have enough of us after all these years in the same place with the same people."

"A place that is my home, Mrs Hughes. And people that are my family, my friends", Mr Carson replied seriously. "I shall hope they won't be desperate to get rid of me as soon as possible", he added, only half-joking, but she shook her head with a smile.

"Oh, of course not", she assured him. "You're very much esteemed by everyone here."

"Esteemed, yes", he granted with a sigh, "but not...you know, it can't be more than that. I'm still the head of the household. It's...different for me", he explained with a hint of sadness she might not have been able to make out if she didn't know him such a long time.

"I know that", Mrs Hughes replied compassionately, knowing that -despite his ability to conceal it - he wasn't indifferent towards the fact that his position didn't allow him the same sort of relationship the rest of the staff used to share. She knew it all too well, the burden and responsibility a high position brought, the constant need of keeping a professional distance of some sort. Not that they couldn't form bonds or make friends, but it was like he said, it was different for them, less carefree, for him even more than for her. That was one reason why the two of them had created the special connection she liked to think they shared in the first place, because they were the only ones with a comparable position, the only person they could confide in.  
Mrs Hughes felt the sudden urge to touch him, to spend him comfort by letting him know she understood, so she lifted her hand to lay it on his, but as she reached forward, she thought better of it, paused in her movement and then grabbed her glass to cover up her intention.  
"But still, you have friends here", she said instead, "people that love you." Too late, she realised what she was saying, what he might think her implying, but the words were already tumbling from her lips. If he noticed, she couldn't tell.

"I appreciate that you say that, Mrs Hughes", he just stated calmly. "Although I'm not convinced that you're right."

"At least I like to think that we are friends", she said, trying to cheer him up, unable to stand the sadness in his eyes. And indeed, his face lit up immediately and a confirming smile formed on his lips.

"Indeed, we are", he nodded, quite serious. "And it's a friendship I value above all others. I hope you know that."

"You will always have it, Mr Carson."  
They both smiled at each other and silence filled the room. Mr Carson could feel that he was beginning to stare, perhaps even beyond the edge of propriety, but he was captured by her blue eyes that sparkled at him so beautifully and with such sincere affection. It was Mrs Hughes who finally averted her gaze, blushing slightly and biting her lip the way he found so endearing. _  
I made her uncomfortable_ , he thought guiltily and watched his hands he was wringing unconsciously. _I need to let her know at some point_ , he considered. _Perhaps I will regret it afterwards, very probably even, but I certainly will if I never tell her. And when would be a better time and place than here and now?_ They were alone. They had already approached the subject, even though unwillingly, at least from her side. And he had thought to see his own attachment mirrored in her eyes.

"Well then, as your friend", he began slowly, scolding himself the next second for the choice of words, "I'd like to make a suggestion. You might find it a strange one, but...I ask you to think about it nevertheless."

"Oh!", Mrs Hughes sat up surprised, straightening invisible folds in her skirt before turning her attention to him. "I'm quite agog now."

"You see, talking about...the future and retirement and- marriage..." He had a little difficulty to force the last word out, but hopefully she hadn't noticed. "It made me think a lot and I made the decision to invest in a building", he told her without much fuss, deciding that it was best to go straight ahead - or he feared he might not find the courage to get through with it.

"Oh, that's a nice idea", Mrs Hughes declared cheerfully, obviously unsuspicious of where the Butler was heading and his struggle to do so.

"But, the problem is...I'm used to being occupied, Mrs Hughes. I don't think I'll be able to sit around all the time, I need something to do", he said, unsure how to arrive where he wanted to get. _Something to do and someone to do it with._

"Well, and why shouldn't you?", she agreed. "I don't see the problem you've mentioned."

"Well, there's also something else I've grown accustomed to", Mr Carson said evasively, approaching step by step.

"What is it?" The innocent interest in her smile forced him to close his eyes for a moment and he took a deep breath before he continued.

"It's rather some **one** than something", he clarified then. "You, to be precise..."

He threw a glance at her, expectantly, nervous, afraid of her reaction, but desperate to see it all at once. Mrs Hughes stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, then her brow furrowed and she blinked several times.  
"Me?", she asked, clearly bewildered, obviously not understanding what he tried to say and Mr Carson felt how desperation began to spread in his body and mind.

"I'm used to having you around, Mrs Hughes", he tried, saying the first thing that came to his mind without thinking about the choice of words, "and I quite like it, to be honest. I must admit that I always thought- it was foolish of me to assume, I know", he said apologetically, "but...before you told me you couldn't retire, I always thought we would, you know...retire together somehow", he admitted, slightly ashamed to have had such conjectures, now that he heard it spoken aloud.  
"I mean- not **together** , of course", he quickly went on, panicking a bit just as he could have made his point, but no - of course he had to lose his nerves when it came to it! Annoyed with himself, but unable to change it now, he had no option than to go with it.  
"Not far away from each other ", he therefore suggested alternatively, "so we could continue keeping us company like we always have...we would...sit and talk about the day with a glass of sherry, only it would be in a garden or a cottage instead of my pantry or your sitting room. I know, I've been presumptuous by having such ideas-"

"Don't fret about it", she cut him off with a wave of her hand, her voice much calmer and softer than he would have expected. "I'm actually quite flattered and I would have liked that as well, very much so", she told him quietly to his great relief, only for it to be washed away and replaced by disappointment when she continued. "But as you know, I can't retire. I plan to visit you though, if you'll let me", she added, hoping to make up for it.

"I would be disappointed if you didn't", he replied. "But a visit from time to time won't be the same as seeing each other every day as we have for so many years now..."

"No, I suppose not."  
 _Is that what he wants_?, she asked herself a little bewildered. _Seeing each other every day?_ _I almost sounded as if-_

"And **I** suppose", his cautious voice interrupted her wonder, "you wouldn't allow me to buy something?" He looked at her rather expectantly, but as she opened her mouth, he seemed to think better of it and quickly continued before she had had the chance to speak.  
"I could afford it", he said in a sort of 'no big deal'-voice, "so you wouldn't have to. My savings would be sufficient and I wouldn't mind at all-"

"That's...incredibly kind of you", Mrs Hughes cut him off, completely taken by surprise by this suggestion. She felt a little run over, to be honest, had no idea what could have provoked him to it and completely unable to form a single thought about how to react. But then, there was only one reasonable reaction, wasn't there?  
"But...I-I could never accept it, Mr Carson..."

"I see", he said, trying to hide his disappointment. But he had expected it, actually, and knew her well enough to know that there was no point in arguing. She was a proud woman and it was against her standards to take something from him - as things stood between them. It was a quality he highly respected in her. He sighed. _I'll have to change the circumstances, then._

"Well, then I guess we both know the answer to that", he said, almost absent-mindedly.

"I don't understand", she said, her expression matching her words.

"Marry me."

She opened her mouth, closed it again, opened it, stuttering.  
"I-I beg your pardon?"

"Think about it", he said, sounding a bit too objectively, but it was the only way he could avoid losing his countenance. "You said so yourself", he reminded her. "If you were to marry and hadn't the pressure of caring for your sister on your own..."

"Mr Carson, I-I don't-", she stammered a bit desperately, but he silenced her by lifting both of his hands.

"Don't say anything about the matter now", he advised, surprising himself by his calm voice, "take your time."  
She didn't seem convinced and he began to panic again. What if she said no? By the look in her eyes, she would, if she were to answer now. _I have to say something_ , it shot through his head, _anything. Anything that will make her think about it..._

"Just keep in mind that...it would have its advantages", he tried, struggling with the words. _Something that makes her consider it but doesn't give away too much_ , his head advised him. Yes, he had meant to tell her **everything** , but with the way the conversation had gone so far, he simply couldn't bring himself to do so. What if she rejected him after he had confessed? No, he couldn't risk everything they had, couldn't risk their friendship.  
"We're used to each other, aren't we?", he finally forced out, sounding much more matter-of-factly than intended because he was covering up the effort of speaking at all. "We'll already lose enough of what we've grown accustomed to when we leave Downton, I don't see why it should be more than absolutely necessary."

Mrs Hughes stared at him. She felt like she had been doing nothing else during the last minutes. _I'm used to having you around_ , it echoed in her ears. _We've grown accustomed to each other.  
_ She pitied herself. And she hated self-pity, it was a repellent quality. _At first, I really thought-_ But that hadn't been his reason, far from it _. I'm a fool_ , she discovered.

"I see", she said emotionlessly, staring in front of her and it worried Mr Carson.

"It would certainly be of great comfort to me", he wanted to explain, "some familiarity and...-"

 _Familiarity._ Mrs Hughes had to close her eyes for a moment.

"Yes", she interrupted him then energetically, opening them again. "Of course. I-...I will think about it, Mr Carson."  
She saw how he opened his mouth as she got up, but she couldn't bear to hear any more of it, so she went on before he had the chance.  
"But it's late and we have to get up early tomorrow. So, if you'll excuse me, I must be off to bed." Without waiting for a response, she turned around and made her way to the door.

"I-"

"Goodnight, Mr Carson", she pressed out, hoping that he wouldn't hear the lump that was forming in her throat.

"G-Goodnight, Mrs Hughes.." But she was already out of the door, leaving him dumbstruck, distraught and alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this very very difficult and have literally NO idea how it turned out, so please - I know I always ask for comments, but I would be really happy to know your opinion here...


	5. Chapter 5

Mrs Hughes had spent most of the next day in busy occupation, eager to avoid the person she usually longed to see more than any other. She had followed the urge to leave when she had quitted his room the evening before, but the sudden departure did definitely leave matters unresolved, questions unanswered and her mind uneasy.  
How to treat him when they met? Would he expect an explanation, an answer? How should she talk to him at all when she didn't even know what had actually happened? She felt as if her brain wasn't able to absorb and organize the events properly, the conversation that had occurred like a blurred memory of another person, not her own. There were times when she wasn't sure if it had actually been real, or if it was just a dream, a dream that had turned into a nightmare.  
 _Marry me_ , he had said. How often had she imagined this... she couldn't believe it, a moment of shocking, surprised, but blissful happiness - so fragile and nondurable.  
Because it was not what she had wished for. Of course it wasn't. She knew him. She knew how he was, who he was. She knew him to be someone who hated change, always clung to the familiar.  
 _Familiarity. Used to. Accustomed to_. As far away as most of the conversation seemed in her head, those words stuck out as clear as day.  
She couldn't accept his offer under such circumstances, couldn't even consider it, could she? No, of course not. It wouldn't be fair. Not to him and neither to herself. Then why didn't she just tell him? Reject and get it over with? Back to normal, hopefully, instead of this ridiculous game of hide and seek she had been playing the whole-

"Mrs Hughes." She was startled from her thoughts by the voice of the very man himself. She had been so lost, hadn't paid attention to where she was going and nearly bumped into him in the downstairs corridor.

"Mr Carson", she greeted shortly, making move to go on as quickly as possible, but he detained her by gently stepping in her way. He had been waiting for their paths to cross the whole day, a question burning on his tongue after she had left so hurriedly the day before - what was he supposed to make of such a behaviour?  
"I don't want to press you", he carefully told her now, "you should think about is as long as you need, but...I wondered if you had thought about our conversation?"

"I have indeed", she replied, trying to sound light-hearted. "There was hardly anything else on my mind, to be honest."

"And may I ask if you've come to any conclusions?"

"Conclusions?" She couldn't suppress a little disbelieving laugh. "Far from it, I'd say."  
The look he gave her seemed sincerely disappointed - now, with him looking at her like this, she couldn't bring herself to deny him right away, she couldn't, even if she had wanted to.  
"I'm sorry, Mr Carson", she said instead, "but I really don't know what to make of it."  
 _If I can't put an end to it, I have to let him know my doubts, at least..._

"Don't you...", he said, eyes lowered to the ground, his voice matching the disappointed expression.

"No", she said truthfully - there was no point in pretending otherwise. "Not at all."

"I believed it was rather a question of yes or no", Mr Carson stated to her astounding. He couldn't actually believe that it was so easy, could he?

"But there's so much more to be considered, isn't there?", she held against him. "You can't just make such a suggestion and expect me to give you an answer right away." _Although I should_. It would have been reasonable, would probably spare both of them a lot of painful waiting and uncertainty. She knew that she should, and yet, she didn't.

"No. No, I can't expect that."

"Well, I'm glad we agree there", Mrs Hughes said as cheerfully as she could manage.

"Mrs Hughes!" A call from up the staircase found its way to their ears, a huge relief for the woman in demand for once.

"I'm sorry", she said, hoping it wouldn't show that she wasn't sorry at all, "busy day. May I?" She gestured to the stairs he was blocking with his broad figure.

"Oh yes, of course", he stumbled, hurriedly stepping out of the way to let her through.

"Thank you."  
And off she went, out of sight, but certainly not out of his mind.  
He had hoped this encounter might help to bring some order in his muddled thoughts, but instead, they seemed to be more bewildered than ever. He slightly shook his head in an attempt to clear it, took a deep breath and continued his own way to hopefully occupy himself in the wine cellar.

In a corner of the kitchen door, half-hidden and unnoticed by the two heads of staff, stood Mrs Patmore, a likewise confused and concerned expression on her face.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"That looks wonderful Daisy", Mrs Hughes praised the assistant cook as she decorated a dessert for dinner. The young woman smiled in return, arranging another blueberry between the others as the housekeeper turned around and wanted to leave the kitchen.

"Mrs Hughes?" The voice of Mrs Patmore stopped her when she reached the doorway.

"Mhm?"

"Is...", the cook stepped a little closer, throwing a glance at the working Daisy out of the corner of her eye. "Is everything alright?", she whispered then to Mrs Hughes surprise, only loud enough for her to hear.

"What?", she said in confusion, but lowering her voice too, as a precaution.

"Is everything alright between you and Mr Carson?", Mrs Patmore clarified and watched how the housekeeper went suddenly pale - enough of an answer for the cook.

"Why?", Mrs Hughes asked, obviously pretending her ignorance. "What would give you this idea?"

"That's not important", her friend quickly cut her off. "What I'm concerned about is you", she said with meaningfully raised eyebrows. Mrs Hughes scrutinized her for a moment, torn, but finally she sighed - yielding.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

A knock at the door of his pantry let Mr Carson look up from his papers.

"Mrs Patmore!", he said surprised when he saw the cook standing in the door. "That's an unexpected pleasure."

"Are you busy?", she asked, nodding at his desk. "Or might I have a word?"

"Please." Mr Carson pointed to a chair standing opposite him. "Come in. What can I do for you?", he asked rather cheerfully when Mrs Patmore had closed the door and taken a seat.

"Well, you see.." She nervously wrung her hands in her lap. "It's about Mrs Hughes."  
She wasn't surprised when he visibly stiffened, but it didn't help her own nerves either.  
"I'm so sorry", she told the unsettled Butler, "I can assure you, this is as uncomfortable for me as it is for you, but-", she trailed off, unsure how to express the reason for her visit.

"But she has sent you", Mr Carson slowly finished her sentence, rather a statement than a question.

"What?", Mrs Pamore exclaimed in slight shock. "Gods, no! No..she- She has no idea that I'm here. She'd probably kill me if she knew", she admitted, the corner of her mouth twitching despite the tensed atmosphere.

Mr Carson gave her a questioning look, surprised that she would be here without Mrs Hughes consent - a short silence spread in the room that was even more uncomfortable, so Mrs Patmore quickly cleared her throat and went on.  
"Anyway", she said, "you see...I felt..obliged. As her friend. To come to you, I mean", she added, receiving just a raise of his eyebrows. "As you have surely guessed, she has spoken to me about your..conversation..."

"She told you everything", he observed with a sigh.

"Well, not everything", Mrs Patmore corrected, shifting uncomfortably. "Only what was necessary. I know that you plan to retire and asked her to... **join** you", she told him, choosing her words carefully.

"Yes", he confirmed the truth of this knowledge. _Although it's indeed not nearly everything..._

"Now, the thing is", she went on, "I'm sure there must have been a kind of misunderstanding." She wasn't sure if the look of bewilderment on his face was honest or at least partly feigned when he gulped, obviously reluctant to reply.

"I'm not sure what-"

"You must have noticed that she seems quite...reluctant, Mr Carson", the cook interrupted him a little impatiently. She wanted to get through with this as quickly as possible, but he seemed to withdraw himself, if consciously or not, she couldn't tell.

"I have", he granted quite sadly. "But if she feels that way, I might just have to accept it."

"But..." Mrs Patmore heard the growing desperation in her own voice. How could she make him understand without giving away too much of Mrs Hughes' private matters?  
"No- it's...she doesn't actually feel that way", she finally told him, seeing no other way than to just say it.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry", she said, shaking her head, "it's not my place to tell. But let me say this much", the cook added then, feeling that he might need a little more of a push, "Mrs Hughes is very much attached to you, Mr Carson, believe me. But she's hurt", she finished compassionately as she saw the spark of hope lighting up in the Butler's eyes.

"Hurt?", he asked, furrowing his brow once more.  
Did she have to explain everything for him down to the smallest detail?

"Yes!", Mrs Patmore confirmed a little frustrated. "She feels you've only asked her out of fear of loneliness and a sense of...well...habit."  
She watched how her words sank down, and he stared at her for a moment...then the penny dropped and his eyes widened in realisation as some unfortunate formulations found their way into his head...and suddenly - everything made sense.

_o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o_

"Are you ready?"

Anna Bates had just finished the embroidery she had had to attend to for Lady Mary. It was far later than they normally used to go home to their cottage, but as John also had work to do he only reluctantly would have put off until the next day, they had agreed to stay longer today to finish their tasks.

"In a minute", John smiled at his wife with a shoe brush in his hand. "You can go ahead to get your coat, darling, I won't be long."

"I'd rather stay and watch you", she suggested instead with a hint of a mischievous smile.

"Watch me polish His Lordships shoes?" John looked at her disbelievingly and Anna couldn't help but laugh lightly.

"No", she said lovingly. "Watch you work concentratedly. I like the way you look when you're concentrated."

"In that case, my dear, feel free to watch", John declared and made an inviting gesture with the brush, causing them both to giggle.  
Anna was just about to come in and sit at her husband's side, when they heard a bump echoing through the corridor, followed by the scratching sound of a chair that was pushed back hurriedly. Anna threw a glance in the direction where the noise had come from, and when she looked back at John, he met her eyes with likewise questioningly raised eyebrows.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Charles Carson stared at the paper in front of him, the quill ready but motionless in his right hand - the untouched wide surface of white before his eyes seemed to mock him, empty, apart from three little words right on the top.

 _Dear Mrs Hughes_ ,

He didn't know how many times he had written that today. Had written it, had written a little more, had degenerated it and crossed it out. He had lost count of it.  
He brought the quill down on the sheet and watched how the words appeared as he wrote.

_I hope you'll believe me when I say that I'm very sorry about yesterday and that you'll accept my apology. Our conversation didn't go as I planned, I was-_

_A stupid idiot_ , he finished the sentence in his head. Unable to make himself clear, too afraid to just tell her. Instead, he had behaved like a fool, had talked around it and not only failed in his confession, but probably ruined everything.  
 _An idiot and a coward_.  
Now he was even too afraid to talk to her, had decided to try and tell her on paper instead, but that was not of much success either.  
He looked down at the words he had written, finding them to be empty and inane, not at all what he wanted to tell her. It was all wrong. Again.  
He ripped the sheet from the pad, crumpled it up in frustration and threw it in the paper basket in one of the corners of his pantry. It was already overflowing with paper balls, so as the last one hit the top, it bounced off and fell to the floor with a quiet rustle. But Mr Carson did neither care nor notice, his attention already on the new piece of paper before him. He dipped the quill into fresh ink and put the tip to paper to write the words again, when he hesitated.  
Was it right to begin with "Dear Mrs Hughes"? Or was that already too familiar? Would she be offended as she was already cross with him? Maybe he should simply address her as "Mrs Hughes", he considered. But then again, what if that sounded too impersonal and would make her lay the letter aside without even taking a further look at its content?

 _Wonderful_. Now he couldn't even decide on the proper heading, let alone the struggle he had to find the right words for the rest of it.

Frustrated, Mr Carson hit his fist on the table and achieved nothing but to cause the ink bottle to fall over, spilling all over his desk and covering the rest of the white sheets with black stains as the liquid soaked into the fabric of the paper.

 _Dammit_ , he cursed silently and got up from his chair to get his clothes out of reach, hurriedly picking up the bottle with its remaining contents.

"Is everything alright, Mr Carson?" The soft voice startled him, he hadn't expected anyone to be still up and to be caught in this flustered state and with his hands full of ink didn't help either.

"Oh, Anna", he said surprised when he saw the young woman glancing through the door. "Just a little accident. Spilt a bit of ink, that's all", he said in an attempt to appear controlled.

She stepped in, looking concerned.

"That's more than a bit", Anna detected, examining the mess that had been his desk.  
"Can I help you?", she offered friendly, but Mr Carson, thinking about the overflowing paper basket, thought it better to subtly make her leave the room as quickly as possible.

"No, no. Thank you, Anna. But I'm sure I'll manage", he therefore assured her even though rather poorly, given the fact that he could barely move his hands without causing further chaos.  
"You and Mr Bates should be at home anyway. It's getting dark", he added with a nod to the window.

"Are you sure?", she asked, wrinkling her brow. "It won't take more than a minute."

"No, really, we all had a long day", Mr Carson confirmed, "off with you", he commanded, already turning his attention back to the dripping black papers before him.

Anna was a bit reluctant to leave him on his own, she sensed that he was unsettled, although he tried to hide it, of course.  
 _It's only the shock_ , she tried to convince herself and slowly turned around to follow his order.

As she did so though, her gaze fell on the basked with crumbled papers. The one that had fallen out had opened slightly, giving way to some sentences that had been crossed through more or less neatly.  
 _Hughes_ , she read in the headline. And some other words that were still readable - just shreds, but enough to wake a concern of a completely different sort.

Mr Carson hadn't noticed her staring at the paper, but now he saw her gazing at the basket only a second before she averted her eyes to meet his with a rather troubled expression.

"Are you sure that nothing is the matter, Mr Carson?", Anna asked cautiously, looking at him with meaningful eyes that startled the Butler even more. Surely, she was only talking about the ink accident?

"Of course", he said a little flustered, but quickly gathering himself, he went on in his usual calmness. "You should really be off now, Anna. I don't like the thought of you two walking home in the dark." She looked at him for a moment and he already feared that she would ask further questions, but then she just nodded.

"Goodnight, then", she said with a last scrutinizing glance at him he hoped he had only imagined.

"Goodnight."

Relieved, he watched how she left the room and let out a breath he hadn't even noticed he had been holding.  
She hadn't...seen anything, had she? Surely not. Shaking his head, Mr Carson put the thought aside.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"Mrs Hughes?"

"Anna!", the housekeeper looked up in surprise at the young woman standing in the door of her sitting room. It was late and she had expected the rest of the staff to be gone already, most of all Mr and Mrs Bates who had to make their way to their cottage.  
"What are you still doing here?", she wondered, turning around on her chair to face the maid.

"I'll be off every moment", Anna replied quickly.  
"I just wanted...to ask you...", she slowly went on, apparently considering her next words.  
"Is everything alright? Between you and Mr Carson?", she then asked cautiously to Mrs Hughes' astounding.  
 _Can it really be so obvious?,_ she thought a little horrified. _First Mrs Patmore, now Anna..._

"Well, of course", she said, hoping that her light-heartedness sounded convincing.  
"What would make you ask such a thing?"

"Oh, it was just...I came across his pantry and..." She trailed off, apparently unsure if she should continue at all.

"Yes?", Mrs Hughes enquired. But Anna seemed reluctant - she had come because she thought it might help the two heads of staff, had followed her instinct by doing so. But she knew Mr Carson, knew how uncomfortable he had already been with her witnessing his -despite attempted conciliation- rather obvious distress.  
 _It's not my place to tell._

"Never mind, it was nothing of importance", she therefore answered rather evasively. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come. It's none of my business anyway", she went on, shifting uncomfortably.

"It's alright", Mrs Hughes tried to soothe her. "No need to apologise."

 _Apology_. That had been one of the words she thought to have deciphered. Anna was torn between the respect for Mr Carson's privacy and the feeling that it had to be ignored - for Mrs Hughes sake and for his own. She was sure that there was something going on, something that concerned both of them and that needed to be resolved. Perhaps she should say something after all?  
 _But no_ , she decided. _Hopefully, time will do the trick._

"Goodnight, Mrs Hughes."

"Goodnight, Anna."

Confused by this slightly strange encounter, Mrs Hughes watched from the corner of her eye how Anna slowly made move to leave. She turned back to her desk and didn't notice it, but as the young woman reached the doorframe, she stopped and turned around again.

"Mrs Hughes?"

"Mmh?" The housekeeper looked up from her desk.

"Whatever it was...", Anna said softly, already halfway through the door, "He's very sorry."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...Gods, I'm so nervous. No idea how often I rewrote this. Still not sure about it but too lazy to do it again, I'll just hope it's not crap and will disappoint anyone.  
> No more words or I'll keep lamenting about how hard I found this, so please, be lenient...
> 
> Hope you like it, I'm praying for comments.

_He's very sorry_. Anna had been gone several minutes, but Mrs Hughes hadn't moved. She sat in her chair, motionless, turned towards the door the young woman had closed when she left. _He's sorry_. How did she know? What had she seen? Mrs Hughes stared at the floor in front of her, tried to organize her thoughts that were rushing through her mind, hard to concentrate on one of the many questions that had popped up in addition to what had troubled her already. Was he really? Did he understand what he had caused in her? Did he know how she felt? How did **he** feel? And most importantly, should she go and see him?

Still rather like in a trance, Mrs Hughes stood up and opened the door, stepped out of her sitting room and down the corridor, her feet leading the way unconsciously before she had even made the decision to move at all. Suddenly, she found herself standing in front of his door, the sound of rustling paper and silently uttered curses telling her that he was still up and inside. Without thinking about it, Mrs Hughes slightly opened the door without knocking - something she usually never did - and glanced inside.  
He was bent over his desk, swiped paper in a basket, black paper, black, soaking paper, she discovered a little amused - apparently, he had thrown over the ink bottle.  
That must have been when Anna caught him, she thought and suppressed a smirk at the image forming in her head - a flustered Mr Carson, his desk a mess and his hands as black as the papers, looking up in horror at the intruder standing in his door. He had cleared his desk now and stood there, unaware of her presence, looking at his hands a little desperately, apparently unsure how to proceed.  
That was when Mrs Hughes knocked at the doorframe to draw his attention to her.

"Mr Carson?"

"Mrs Hughes!" He looked up in surprise, his expression not unlike the one she had just imagined.

"May I...?", she asked, gesturing inside.

"Of course, yes...", he stuttered, blinking several times, gathering himself, "please, come in."  
"I'm sorry for the mess", he muttered then when she observed what was left of the black liquid on his desk, "I...had a little accident. Let me just-" He made move to- well, she didn't know exactly and neither did he, as it seemed, for he made a step forward, looked at the desk, looked at his hands, but didn't do anything, for everything he touched would only have been stained even more.

"Wait", Mrs Hughes said, unable to suppress a little laugh at the sight. "You'll only make it worse. Come on - kitchen, now, we need to get this off."

"I suppose you're right", he said with a little sigh and followed her out of the room.  
He walked up to the washbasin and hesitated.

"Let me help you", her soft voice came from behind his back and he heard the amusement in her voice before he could see it on her face.

"Really, you don't need to-"

"I know I don't **need** to", she interrupted him with a smile, "but I'll do it anyway." He watched how she put some soap in his hands and then opened the water tap.  
"That's what friends are for, aren't they?", she said when he began to rub the ink off, the water coloured black immediately.

"Friends, yes...", he mumbled more to himself and silence filled the room, only broken by the splashing of the water that disappeared in the drain, slowly taking the black colour with it.  
 _Was that only a thoughtless comment?_ , he asked himself. _Or did it have a deeper meaning? Did she mean to tell me-?_  
He threw a glance at her from the corner of his eye as he closed the tap and nodded gratefully when she handed him a towel, his mind too troubled to manage a smile. Neither of them dared to say anything when they made their way back to his pantry -both not quite sure why she followed him at all-, but as soon as the door had closed behind him, he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Do I understand it right that we're going to be...friends?", he finally asked, although he was afraid of her answer.  
Mrs Hughes sighed. She dreaded this conversation, but there was no rational reason to put it off any longer. They had to talk sooner or later, there was no way around it and even though she feared that things would never really be the same again between them, she knew they had no chance at all to return to normality as long as this stood in the room, untouched and far from resolution.

"Mr Carson", she therefore began slowly, carefully picking out her words, _"_ I...I know I've been putting you off and I can assure you, your offer was ever so kind and generous and I'm very appreciative, really", she said truthfully, but I can't deny that I believe it's...", she paused, a little desperate sound escaping her throat as she tried to find a word that would describe it properly. "It's rather madness", she finished then in lack of a better expression. "I understand that-"

"But that's the point", Mr Carson interrupted her suddenly, startling Mrs Hughes so she lost the thread for a moment.

"What is?", she asked, honestly bewildered.

"I don't believe you do understand", he explained, looking at her with a sincerity that for a second, she could almost have believed him.  
But this wasn't the moment to doubt again, she told herself. She hadn't come this far before and she knew that if she wanted to finally get through with this, she couldn't allow herself to question her intention now.

"What I understand", she therefore replied confidently, "is that you asked me to marry you."

"I did", he confirmed unnecessarily. "But you may mistake my reasoning."

"Do I?"

"I can't deny, it must sound like...madness to you", he granted her and she could hear a _but_ approach around the corner. Then it came - and it was nothing at all what she had expected.  
"But only if you don't feel as I do."  
She stared at him, dumbstruck for a moment, even more startled as she could find only pure sincerity shining from his eyes.  
 _But that's not possible,_ it shot through her head as soon as she had regained her ability to think. _He has never mentioned_...-  
Surely, he was referring to this horrid sense of familiarity again.

"Feel?" She slightly snorted in disbelief, trying to cover up her agitation by pretended light-heartedness. "Oh, Mr Carson, I wasn't aware that we were talking about any **feelings** involved..."

"But there are, for me", he replied completely seriously, unaffected by her tone. He had to put things right now, he knew, he couldn't risk losing his calmness - or he would risk losing her.  
"There is indeed a certain feeling I get from being with you, Mrs Hughes, I can't deny it. I've grown accustomed to this feeling-" _There's this word again,_ he scolded himself, but it was too late. She noticed as well, he could tell by her stiffening slightly. _Concentrate, Charles, you idiot!_  
"-and I must admit that I don't want to live without it", he continued, hoping that it would make up for his misstep. "I'm not even sure I could if I tried", he finished truthfully and watched her face, nervously waiting for her reaction, but unable to read the expressions. She didn't seem to want to say something either, so he was forced to go on without the slightest idea what was going on in her head - whether he liked it or not.

"What I'm trying to say in a rather clumsy way", he slowly went on, considering every word, "is that the only hope for my retirement to be bearable or even happy is if you would consider...joining me." She opened her mouth, likely to protest or contradict him, so he lifted his hands to keep her silent, convinced to make himself clear this time.  
"I know I talked about being used to having you around", he said, remembering the conversation with Mrs Patmore, "but I want you to know that I don't speak out of loneliness or the view to my comfort. When men of my age marry that's usually the reason. It's true", he admitted, "I would prefer not to be alone, but what I wish more than anything else is to spend the rest of my days in **your** company." He saw how she bit down on her lip as she did so often and he had to take a deep breath as not to lose his composure.

"I...", Mrs Hughes stuttered, using the pause it created, but not quite sure what she wanted to say. His words had changed something in her, she discovered a little desperately. She didn't want to change her mind, now that she had made it up.  
 _But have you really?_ , an unwelcome voice whispered in the back of her head. She didn't want to admit it to herself, because it was not reasonable at all, but perhaps she actually hadn't, never had in the first place - her heart was betraying her sense in the worst way possible...Yet again, she found herself hoping, and it took all her will to speak when she finally found her voice.

"I'm truly honoured, Mr Carson", she said, praying that he wouldn't hear the strength it required, "and I would never have assumed that you seem to think your happiness depended on my company, but..." She trailed off, but he finished the sentence for her.

"But you don't feel the same way", Mr Carson detected and the sadness in his voice let her heart ache.

"No, that's not what I meant, it's..." Again, she couldn't bring it to an end, because she simply didn't know **how** , didn't know anymore what she wanted and how she should express it even if she had known. She sighed deeply, exasperated and exhausted - with herself, with him, with everything.  
"Did you only ask me to marry you because you knew I couldn't retire myself?" The question tumbled from her lips before she could stop it. "Because you wanted to enable me to and knew I would never let you spend your savings?"

"No", Mr Carson replied without hesitation. "It was a part of it, of course", he admitted, "but...no."  
He waited, gave her time to say something, but she didn't, overrun by the certain simplicity of his answer. She hadn't expected that, she wasn't sure what she **had** expected, really, but not that he would just...say no.

"Mrs Hughes", Mrs Carson went on cautiously when she just kept staring at him, apparently not intending to say anything, "I-...I know this must all be...difficult and overwhelming for you. But there's one last thing I would like to say..." He paused again, gathering himself to the best of his ability, gathering all his bravery.  
"You are **not** a habit", he then said seriously, Mrs Patmore's words echoing in his ears. "You see, my proposal is actually a romantic one."  
He hated that he had to avert his eyes, but they lowered themselves to the ground without having been instructed to, his whole being flooded with the fear of her reaction.  
"I'm sure you may have guessed by now", he muttered, "but I wanted to give you certainty."

 _I'm sure you may have guessed_. Mrs Hughes would have laughed at the ridiculousness, -at how wrong he was- if her head had been able to focus enough to produce something like a laugh.  
 _He didn't say the word_ , one part of her brain pointed out.  
 _He said romantic, what else could he mean?_ , said another.  
 _No no no no no_ , thought Mrs Hughes, silencing both. _That's not...not possible. He said..- I thought..._  
But here he was, saying it, with his words as well as his eyes, his face telling her that it was real, although a dream seemed much more probable to her, an illusion, telling her what she most wished to hear just to snatch it away the next second.

"Is it really?", she heard herself mutter almost absent-mindedly, surprised that she managed to form any words at all.

"It is indeed." His eyes returned to her face, for the uncertainty of not looking at her was an even worse torture than anything he could find there. He studied her features, tried to make out what they were telling about her insides, but the expressions changed, switching between various emotions, as it seemed - some even contradictive -, so he had to wait and rely on her words instead.

"So, talking about...feelings-", she slowly forced out, fragments of sentences being everything that could be expected in her current state.  
Funnily, the fact that she was so obviously unsettled helped Mr Carson to stay calm and composed himself.

"I was talking about being in love with you", he therefore clarified silently, while he watched in wonder how her eyes widened even more when the gravity of his words sank in.  
How could she still be surprised?

"Love?", Mrs Hughes repeated and it was the tone of her voice that finally got him off course, the questioning, the hint of desperation, the fact that it seemed at the edge of disbelieving laughter. "At our age?"

"You find me ridiculous", he detected horrified, lowering his eyes in dawning embarrassment.  
He had imagined a lot, a hundred ways how she would just reject him because she didn't feel the same, but this scene had never crossed his mind and it was worse than everything he could have thought out.  
Mrs Hughes could see his distress as clear as if it were written on his forehead, shocked herself when she realised what she had said.

"No", she quickly contradicted him, "no, that's not-...I don't know, I guess I've just not been expecting to ever hear that word come from a man anymore", she tried to explain, and was relieved when he looked up at her, his eyes still unsure, but soft.

"I told you not to be so sure about that." The gentleness in his voice took her a bit off guard, but it was not like before, Mrs Hughes detected, she didn't lose her thread because of it - quite the contrary, this little sentence and the way it was spoken, along with the memory of their conversation in her bedroom...something in it, or perhaps all of it, washed everything away, everything but the one realisation that was spreading in her head, the certainty that this was all happening, that he meant what he said - that he loved her.

"You did...", she said, the wonder speaking clearly from her voice, "but to hear it now, especially from you..."

"What do you mean, **especially** from me?", he enquired, wrinkling his brow in confusion.

"Oh, Mr Carson...", Mrs Hughes laughed lightly, but it was an affectionate laugh now, a laugh of relief. "First of all, you can hardly be called sentimental", she said, smiling fondly. "Like all Englishmen of your type you know to hide your emotions and qualities under a thick blanket of convention."

"Well, I suppose I can't argue with that", he granted her, happy about the change of atmosphere that had clearly taken place. "Although I'm pleased to hear that you think I have...hidden qualities...", he added then, the corners of his mouth curling in a smirk.  
"And about this blanket, you were always quite good at lifting it, you know?"

"Was I?", she said with a little smile. "I've never been so sure about that. But I won't deny that I was keen on trying", she admitted and he chuckled slightly.

"I can assure you, there's no one better. Or more successful", he added, hesitating for a moment before he went on, "I'm almost afraid to ask, but...how would you consider what you found underneath?"  
He watched in awe how a smile spread across her face, a wide smile, the first honest smile he had seen on her in a long time.

"I'd call it perfection, Mr Carson", she said and if her words didn't already do the trick, her loving tone certainly would have.  
She could see how something snapped in his mind, the pieces settling into place and she smiled confirmingly. It was beyond her imagination - how could the most dreadful misunderstanding have turned into this blissful happiness so quickly?

"Does that mean...-?" He rose his eyebrows, both in question and hope and Mrs Hughes couldn't help but laugh again at his expression and her relief.

"Of course", she said, stepping towards him and placing her hand on his arm. "Of course, I will marry you...You've ruined me for other men, Charles Carson, so what else would I possibly be supposed to do?"

_o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o_

"When do you want to tell them?", Mr Carson asked, placing a soft kiss on Mrs Hughes' hair as she leaned against him on the settee in her sitting room.

"Why not tomorrow?", she replied as if it wasn't even a question. "There's no reason why we shouldn't. We've already kept this a secret long enough."  
Mr Carson smiled at those words.

"I agree", he said and as she could hear that his mouth was wrinkled in slight amusement, Mrs Hughes sat up and turned a bit to be able to look at his face properly.  
"Although I'm not sure how much of a secret it is after all...", he went on as she raised an eyebrow at him, "we've kept it from ourselves and each other more than anyone else."  
There was no need to ask what he was talking about.

"Mrs Patmore", she detected, unable to suppress a smile herself.

"She...came to see me", Mr Carson cautiously confirmed. "Please don't be angry with her, she knew you wouldn't approve of it", he quickly added just as a precaution, relieved that there seemed to be no sign of annoyance to be spotted in her eyes.  
"Let's just say...she helped me to get a clearer view on things", he ended then with meaningfully raised eyebrows. Mrs Hughes couldn't suppress a little chuckle.

"Don't you worry, I'm not angry", she assured him truthfully, thinking back to her conversation with the cook in the garden a few days ago. "I'm not even surprised, to be honest."

"Nevertheless", he slowly replied, "I would appreciate if you wouldn't tell her I mentioned anything..." Mrs Hughes let out a laugh at this thought.

"Surely not!", she exclaimed immediately, "She would never let me forget the role she played if she was aware that I know", she said with pretended horror, making him chuckle too.

"I actually had such an encounter as well", she then went on after a moment, receiving a questioning look from Mr Carson.  
"Anna", she explained and could watch the realisation spreading across his face, a bit of shock and embarrassment too, she detected, but decided not to give it much notice.  
"Well, we should thank them, I guess", she pointed out light-heartedly instead. "Who knows if we had ever spoken things through otherwise?"  
It had meant to be a joke, but Mr Carson looked quite guilty at those words.

"After I messed it up, you mean", he said, looking down at his hands.

"Maybe just a little", Mrs Hughes replied quite teasingly, her tone making him raise his gaze again - the sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her face lightening his heart immediately.

"I'm sure you would have put me back in my right mind sooner or later", he said then, managing a slight smile himself.  
"You know what everyone says", he went on, raising his eyebrows expectantly, "that you can twist me around your little finger."

"I told them it wasn't true", Mrs Hughes assured him with vigour, unable to suppress a little embarrassed laugh.  
 _Maybe just a little..._ , Charles thought to himself and smiled fondly as he watched a slight blush creep up her cheeks.  
"And in fact", Mrs Hughes went on, gathering herself, "we both have added to the mess. I'm sorry", she said with a little twitch around the corner of her mouth when she saw his doubting expression, "but you can't take **all** the credit, Mr Carson."  
He knew that she meant well and appreciated that she wanted to make him feel better by sharing the blame with him, but he just shook his head.

"Nevertheless", he sighed, "I'm ashamed, Mrs Hughes. That it took me so long to speak up in the first place..."  
Her heart ached at the sight of him, the obvious distress and guilt displayed by his features, but she could sense that he wasn't done yet, that he needed to speak everything off his soul, so she held back the urge to contradict him and forced herself to stay silent - just laying her hand on his instead to hopefully spend at least some comfort. He blinked gratefully at her when he felt her touch and she gave him what she hoped to be an encouraging smile, watching how he gulped before he continued.  
"The family, this house...", he finally went on, looking down at their joined hands, "my vocation did always come first and I talked myself into believing that it meant I had to ignore my feelings, that it wouldn't be appropriate to act on them, that a Butler is obliged to keep private life and work strictly separated - an exceedingly difficult task, considering our situation...But the truth is...I never thought...that it could mean causing you pain as well. I'm sorry", he added guiltily and the look in his eyes almost broke her heart, "You must think me a very unkind man."

"Thoughtless sometimes, perhaps, Mr Carson", Mrs Hughes replied empathetically, slightly squeezing his hand for reassurance, "but unkind - never. Commitment and devotion shouldn't be mistaken for callousness", she said firmly, hoping to dispel the insecurity in his eyes.  
"And you don't have to apologise for anything", she assured further. "I did the same, for years, concentrated on my work and-"

"Wait", he suddenly interrupted her, apparently unsettled by something she had said. "Years?", he repeated stunned, the utter shock so clearly speaking from his face that Mrs Hughes lost the thread for a moment.

"Y-Yes."

"How long?"

"I'm not sure exactly", she said slowly, insecure because of his shortness. "But it's been a while. Longer than I care to admit", she confessed, seeing no sense in denying it.  
"What about you?", she quickly added, partly to avoid him asking any further questions and because she couldn't deny that she was silently hoping he might have felt the same way for just as long.

"Oh, I can't remember", Mr Carson said, slightly disappointing Mrs Hughes with his answer. "There was always...something, I guess", he said then, causing her to listen expectantly. "Respect, affection, friendship - and it turned into love long before I dared to admit it to myself, but I...suspected since Joe Burns", he told her. "And I guess I knew from the moment I could almost have lost you. You know, when you had-", he trailed off, but of course she knew.

"Yes." Mrs Hughes nodded.

"Only the thought was too much to bear", he mumbled, and although the pain of these days echoed in his voice, another image popped up in her mind.

"You hummed", Mrs Hughes whispered with a slight smile as the melody played in her head as it had so often over the years.

"What?"

"When Mrs Patmore told you it was not..cancer", she clarified, still finding it difficult to speak the word although this part of her life had been over so long ago. "You polished the silver and you hummed."

"Dashing away with the smoothing iron...", he quietly sang as if more to himself when the memory hit him as well.  
"You remember that?", he asked slightly astounded.

"Of course", she said lovingly. "It was the first thing that made me smile again since I'd been told", she admitted truthfully and watched how he straightened slightly at her words, a spark appearing in his eyes that she couldn't quite put her finger on. But there was no need, Mr Carson had learned his lesson and he would no longer hold back from speaking his feelings, not when it came to her.

"That's all I want", he told her therefore. "To be the one thing that makes you smile, no matter what."  
The sincerity and gentleness in his voice and gaze made tears sting in her eyes and she could do nothing but smile at him in return, hoping that he wouldn't need words to understand that he already was this person to her.  
"Did you know, back then?", Mr Carson said after a few moments of shared silence. "That it was you who had stolen my heart away?"

"No", she had to admit. "But I liked to imagine it."  
Mr Carson sighed deeply.

"We both spent years imagining", he replied sadly. "I should have told you sooner. And when I finally did...", he trailed off, sighed again.  
"It seems you have agreed to marry a fool, Mrs Hughes", he said then to her surprise, giving her a rather sad smile.

"I know", she just declared, unable to withstand the temptation. "But that's alright. I love him anyway."  
He couldn't help but smile as well, although she could still make out the hint of sadness on his face.

"I will remind you of that the next time I behave like an idiot", he said then to her relief, the slight smirk telling her that he was alright after all.

"And I hope there will be many, many opportunities for you to do so", Mrs Hughes laughed and watched in delight as he joined in.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

They had agreed to share the duty of telling the news. Mr Carson thought it only natural that he would be the one to let His Lordship and the family know and Mrs Hughes had no objections at all, so it would be down to her to inform the staff.  
The upstairs breakfast table would surely have been an amusing sight to everyone who had had enough sensitivity to be aware of Robert's and Mary's barely concealed astounding while Tom and Cora were keen not to let show how little of a surprise it was to them.  
Mrs Hughes was faced with a similar reaction, from Mrs Patmore and Anna sharing a knowing smirk, over Miss Baxter's silent but altogether unsurprised smile to Mr Molesley's unaware but warm congrats.  
But upstairs or downstairs, if thoroughly unexpected or long-predicted, Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes were met with nothing but kindness, delight -or even pleased satisfaction, in some cases- good wishes and the assurance of the genuinely shared opinion that no two people in the world could be more deserving of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, this just seems to be one of those chapters that keep refusing to do as you want them to and I still can't quite put my finger on it why I'm not really happy with it, I just have a strange feeling that the second half doesn't fit the tone of the others, but that might be my imagination, so I'll just publish it and see what you say.
> 
> If you're happy with it, which I hope you will be, that shall be enough for me!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be prepared to find some new characters I didn't dare to write for before but that I desperately wanted to include in the end because I love them so much. Perhaps you'll notice that I nicked some phrases in the first scene from the series again (but from a completely different context), I would really like to know if you remember what it originally was and how you consider what I made of the two.  
> I also have to point out that I'm quite proud of the second Violet-scene here, especially as it's completely out of my own quill (not literally, but you know;) and very excited what you'll think.
> 
> The last scene, however, it's...well, fluff. A LOT of fluff. As I already told one of my friends who so kindly agreed to read this story as well, I fear this is going to be very kitschy and sentimental, but I couldn't do anything about it, it just flooded out of my brain like this and I was unable to stop it. Ok, it actually got worse when I tried...so I finally just went with it, ignored it whenever I felt it might not have been quite in character and hope now that no one will think it to be too much of a cliché...  
> Soooo...it seems I just needed this (because we would never have gotten it in the series) and that's what fanfic is for, isn't it? Hope you are the sort of people who think that there is no such thing as too much fluff XD

"I heard the news", said Isobel Crawley as she sat down on the sofa opposite Violet. She had dropped in for an unplanned visit and the Dowager Countess had been only too happy to receive her. Violet didn't like to admit it, least of all to Mrs Crawley herself, but the old woman had grown rather fond of her longtime companion over the years, appreciating the simple fact of her continuous presence as much as the outspokenness and - she had to admit - wit, with which Mrs Crawley used to challenge her like no one else could or dared.

"News?", Violet replied now a little indignantly, raising her eyebrows at the other woman in question, disbelief and a hint of irritation that she seemed to have some information ahead of Violet. She liked to be the superior one, the person in power and the possession of knowledge.

"Carson and Mrs Hughes", Mrs Crawley replied cheerfully as if that would explain anything.  
Well, it didn't. _Carson?_ , Violet thought surprised and slightly bewildered. _**And**_ _Mrs Hughes?_ What important news could possibly concern the two heads of staff at Downton? Especially news **she** wasn't aware of?

"And?", she enquired, unable to suppress the growing impatience in her voice.

"Well, as it seems, they plan to marry", Isobel told her with a smile, her tone and face giving no hint of any emotions near to what rushed through Violet at those words.

"What? Carson?", she repeated, obviously shocked. "Marry?"  
It was unbelievable. The dutiful Butler of Downton planning to marry? **And** without her knowledge?

"I can't believe you haven't heard yet", Isobel said conspicuously carelessly, but the little smirk of satisfaction in the corner of her mouth gave her away. "As you're usually the first to know everything about everyone", she added, simply unable to withstand the temptation.

"I am not!", Violet uttered a little offended. "You make it sound as if I were curious, sticking my nose into other people's matters."

"Well, aren't you?", Isobel asked teasingly, but a fond smile was playing around her lips that would actually have made Violet smile as well - hadn't she been so determined to keep up the superior facade, and so very trained in doing so.

"Certainly not!", she declared vigorously instead as Isobel just kept smiling, unimpressed by her harsh tone she had so much experience to put up with.  
"But that's not the point", Violet went on, eager to finally turn the conversation to her advantage. "Are you sure about this marriage nonsense?"

"Oh yes, quite", Mrs Crawley replied to Violet's annoyance. "I heard it from Tom. I met him in town just this morning."  
 _She heard it directly from the family_ , Violet thought astonished. Then it had to be true, hadn't it? However, she decided, she would under all circumstances pay a visit to Robert and Cora to check personally. In her experience, hearing first hand was always preferable to relying on what had been told by a second.

"Isn't it wonderful?", Isobel cheerfully disturbed her thoughts, causing Violet to snort disapprovingly.

"You call it wonderful, I'd call it inconvenient", she declared, earning a slightly reproachful look from her companion Violet pretended not to notice.

"Surely, servants are allowed to have a private life as well", Mrs Crawley detected, looking at her rather challengingly.

"I'm afraid so", she replied hubristic. "But why do they have to force it on us?"

"Really, Cousin Violet", Isobel said, a clearly scolding undertone in her voice now, "you almost sound as if you didn't consider them to be human beings." But Violet just laughed dismissively.

"Of course, they are", she replied solemnly and a little amused. "But preferably only on their days off."

_o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o_

"I'll be down to the village then, Mr Carson."

The Butler looked up from the wine list he had been studying and saw Mrs Hughes glancing through the door of his pantry.

"Ah, Mrs Hughes", he said, gesturing her to come in for a moment.

"Is anything the matter?", she asked slightly concerned as she closed the door. "Do you need me here? I don't have to go if-"

"Oh no, not at all", he quickly dismissed with a smile. "I...was just wondering if you would mind me joining you", he explained slowly. "It's not a very busy day, Barrow can take over for a few hours and there are some matters I need to attend to myself anyway, so why not go together?", he added quite matter-of-factly, but she could sense that he was in fact slightly nervous as he threw an almost shy glance at her.

"I would be delighted", Mrs Hughes told him truthfully, giving him a sincere and encouraging smile - to her delight and slight amusement, she could watch his unsure expression give way to one of happy satisfaction.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"Carson and Mrs Hughes?", the Dowager Countess of Grantham asked in hardly concealed astounding. "Really?"  
Cora nodded confirmatory from the sofa opposite her mother-in-law.  
"That's what Baxter said."

"And Carson himself", her husband added.

"It's true, then? Well, that will be...very **interesting** ", Violet stated in a tone between disbelief, slight amusement and disapproval.

"Interesting, Mama?", Robert said questioningly, turning around from the fireplace where he was standing.

"Oh yes", his mother confirmed with her 'why do you even have to ask this'-expression.  
"Just think of it. This house will be run by Mr and Mrs Carson! - Very confusing I shall say", she said with a superior look at her son, whose face, to her satisfaction, displayed the kind of shocked realisation that testified the undeniable truth behind her words.  
"In my times", she went on with a solemn voice, "a Butler and housekeeper wouldn't have **dreamed** of marriage - let alone marrying each other! That's why housekeepers are called "Mrs", for heaven's sake!"

"I think it's wonderful", Cora proclaimed truthfully.

"So everyone keeps saying...", Violet muttered under her breath, but Lady Grantham, if she had heard, chose to skilfully ignore her.

"And it was just a matter of time, don't you think?", she went on with a smile.

"A matter of time?", her husband asked disbelievingly, the innocent cluelessness in person.  
"You surprise me, Cora. I, for my part, didn't see that coming."

"That, my dear, is because you're a man", his mother declared knowingly. "Men never see anything coming. Least of all the obvious", she laughed lightly with a glance at Cora, likewise trying to suppress a smirk.

"Don't tell me **you** knew about this", Robert replied a bit cross with the insult, but having enough experience with his mother to know it was best to ignore her comments.

"Well, no", the Dowager Countess granted slightly indignantly, straightening herself to maintain the superior attitude she knew to radiate so very well.  
"But then", she sighed solemnly, "one can't **always** be expected to be omniscient, I guess - not even I", she said seriously, taking a sip from her cup.  
"It would be very exhausting indeed."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"Mrs Patmore!" The whispered voice of Anna reached the cook's ear as she stood in the kitchen, kneading bread dough.

"What is it?", she asked, looking up from her hands, but Anna just grinned meaningfully, waving Mrs Patmore to follow her in the corridor. Quite intrigued, the cook quickly washed her flour-dusted hands and went after her, Daisy sneaking not far behind the older woman to a window where Anna and Miss Baxter were glancing outside, both smiling dreamily.

"Look at them", Mrs Patmore said, laughing lightly as she spotted what -or who- the two women were watching.  
"Thank God they finally got there in the end."  
Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes were walking down the path that led away from Downton, side by side - close, yet not too close to draw any attention to it or even attract gossip about impropriety. However, even from afar you could easily tell the new won familiarity as they chatted, throwing glances at each other every time they thought the other wouldn't notice.

"Isn't it just so romantic?", Daisy sighed from behind the group of women standing around the window. "That they found each other after so many years of waiting?"

"Too many, if you ask me", Mrs Patmore declared and exchanged a look with Anna and Mrs Baxter, whose oppressive silence showed their agreement without needing words.

"They look happy though, don't they?", Anna said after a while, lightening the mood as she noticed amusedly how the two heads of staff would -as if by accident- brush their hands against each other's while they walked away.

"And they should be", Miss Baxter said softly, speaking aloud what everyone was thinking.  
"They deserve it."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"It's so nice of you to accompany me", Mrs Hughes said as she and Mr Carson stepped out of the servant's entrance.

"Not at all", Mr Carson replied dismissively, closing the door he had held for her. They began to walk down the path and he considered if he should be so bold to tell her why he had asked - honesty, he had discovered recently, seemed to be far more productive when it came to Mrs Hughes, no matter how comfortable concealment might seem at first sight.  
"It was for very selfish reasons, really", he therefore admitted, glancing to the ground in front of him. "I just wanted to spend a bit of time alone with you." Mrs Hughes could feel the blush creep up her cheeks.

"Now, Mr Carson", she said a little embarrassed, but mostly pleasantly surprised, if she was honest, "much more of that talking and you make me want to take a look in the mirror to see if my hair's tidy", she laughed. Mr Crason smiled to himself at those words and had she been looking back at him when his eyes lingered on her now, she would have seen the admiration shining from them as clear as it was confirmed by his next words.

"No need", he told her seriously, "I can assure you that you look absolutely beautiful."  
The unexpected remark made her look back up at him, the amazement written all over her face.

"Do you really think so?", Mrs Hughes almost whispered, hopeful and insecure, as Mr Carson noticed slightly uneasy.

"Of course", he assured, wrinkling his brow. "You seem...surprised. Did you doubt it?"

"Well", she said, her eyes leaving his face to focus on the way in front of her, "I'm not...- I'm far from being a young girl, Mr Carson", she finally replied, resisting the urge to glance at him and his reaction. She waited nervously for him to say something, unsure if she wanted to hear it if he would - but no answer came. Instead, she felt his hand that had already brushed hers from time to time touching her elbow. This was not the apparently accidental sort of contact though, but clearly on purpose, leading her to stop in her walk.

"Would you mind sitting down for a minute?", Mr Carson asked cautiously as she threw a puzzled glance at him and pointed to a bench that stood almost hidden between the trees at one side of the path. She followed him without complaining as he led her to sit down before taking a seat beside her himself, neatly folding his hands in his lap and closing his eyes for a moment as if to gather his thoughts.

"Mrs Hughes...", he said then as he opened them again, capturing her with his gaze as much as the serious tone of his voice.  
"Elsie." She blinked several times at the sound of this name, both familiar and strange in her ears, since no one had called her that for many years.  
"I want you to listen closely now", he pointed out unnecessarily as she was already transfixed with every fibre of her body, -eyes wide and motionless while she stared at him- waiting for what was there to come.  
"I know, I've waited far too long to say it", Mr Carson began apologetically, "but that doesn't make it less of the truth. I love you", he said slowly, accentuating every word. "More than words can say. I love everything about you, every smallest detail. From the way you bite your lip when you're nervous to your accent that increases when you're angry. I love that you're a hard and dedicated worker just as much as I have always cherished our meetings in the evenings. I have no idea how you do it", he said, shaking his head about his own disbelieving admiration, "how easily you manage to keep control over everything and everyone while always remaining the wonderful, warm and kind person that you are. Believe me", he said, taking hold of her hand as he spoke, "in my eyes, you are beautiful, inside and out."  
He paused, looking at her expectantly, waiting if she would want to say something, craving for her to say something...and she would have - she certainly would have liked to tell him how utterly happy she was, for how long and how many times she had dreamed about him saying these things, how much she loved him in return. But her head was still muddled, overwhelmed...her thoughts needed to be organized to be able to form the proper words, so she did everything she knew she could manage now, smiling brightly, tears in her eyes, and squeezing the hand he had laid over hers. Mr Carson watched how she entwined their fingers and it was enough to make him gulp with held back tears as well.  
"Ever since this day at the beach, I've been thinking about something you said", he suddenly whispered, the memory of the first time he had experienced the comforting warmth of her small hand in his playing in his mind. "That we could afford to live a little. I couldn't keep these words out of my head, or the fact that we aren't getting younger. It was the first time I've ever actually thought about retirement", he told her. "I had avoided it before. You know that I've never been someone who does particularly welcome change", he said meaningfully and Mrs Hughes couldn't help but chuckle slightly at this understatement. "But it was more than that", Mr Carson slowly went on. "When I thought about the years to come, I dreaded not only the idea of retirement itself - I discovered that it was actually the thought to be parted from you. I didn't care what was coming", he admitted, apparently still overcome by his own realisation, "I only knew that whatever it was, I didn't want to face it without you. That's the only thing that matters", he finished quietly, giving her a cautious smile, " **you** are the only thing that matters."  
Without thinking, following a sudden desire, Mrs Hughes lifted her free hand to his face and cupped his cheek.

"How did I come to deserve you?", she whispered, stroking over the skin with her thumb, but to her astounding, Mr Carson chuckled slightly and shook his head while he laid his own hand over hers, drawing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on her palm.

"Oh, my love", Mr Carson sighed with a smile, "you actually deserve far better than me and I know it, but I'm afraid I'm too selfish to let you go."

"Thank God you are", she replied. "Although I believe everyone will think it's the other way around. I know how highly regarded you are in the village", she added explanatory before he could contradict her, "and rightful so. I'm sure, as soon as the news of our engagement has spread, there'll be some who think you could do better than the housekeeper", she finished, hoping that her light-heartedness sounded convincing.

"I highly doubt it", Mr Carson said warmly, sensing that she was troubled, even though she tried to hide it. _How can't she see that I'm the one who's been blessed beyond any entitlement?_  
"Every man would be honoured to have you", he assured her insistently. "I consider myself very lucky indeed." He was glad to see a gentle smile appear on her face and her voice was just as soft and loving when she spoke, patting his hand reassuringly.

"I know you do", she said. "Never mind me and my stupid worries. I should actually be glad to be soon the envy of every woman in the village", she added jokingly, but Mr Carson remained serious.

"Never tell me not to mind your worries, Elsie", he said and it quickly shot through her head that she could easily get used to that name before her attention returned to his words. "I do mind, of course I mind", he reaffirmed, his eyes never leaving hers for even a second. "But I can tell you this - whatever anyone else may say or think, it shouldn't bother us", he said to her surprise. It was strange to hear him say something like that - him, a man who placed a high value on propriety and reputation. Nevertheless, there could be no question that he meant what he said. "All I need to know", he went on, dispelling what might have been left of her doubts, "all I need **you** to know is that I love you. I am...happy and tickled and bursting with pride that you would agree to be my wife. Everything I wish for is for us to live as closely as two people can for the time that remains to us on earth - and I will gladly tell everyone who happens to ask."

Mrs Hughes could do nothing but to nod, squeezing her mouth and eyes together for a second to hold back the tears that were threatening to get the better of her. She could feel how his hands left hers and was already missing the contact, but he had only let go to be able to gently wrap his arm around her shoulders instead. He drew her a bit towards him, glad to notice that she immediately leaned into it, welcoming the embrace that promised all of the warmth, love and comfort both had been longing for such a long time and that was now finally going to become a reality.

"You have no idea how much I love you", Mrs Hughes whispered when she had calmed and found her voice again, sighing when he placed a kiss on her forehead.

"If it's only half of what I feel about you, I couldn't wish for more", she heard his gentle voice as she closed her eyes with a smile.  
They sat like this for a while, enjoying the moment and comfort, the fact that they were finally able to just follow where their hearts were leading.

o~o~o~o~o

Charles hated that he had to disturb the atmosphere. He could gladly have stayed there for the rest of his life - they couldn't be seen from the path or the house, but they still had to make their way to the village and back, and surely, someone would start to wonder when they stayed away for too long. They were still the heads of staff after all...although it didn't feel like that right now, he discovered. Alone, they could stop being "the Butler" and "the housekeeper", they didn't even need to be Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes - they were simply Charles and Elsie now, just themselves, and he liked this thought more than he could ever have imagined he would like not being the Butler of Downton Abbey anymore. Perhaps retirement wouldn't be so much of a trouble after all...

"I'm afraid we should get on", he whispered softly in her hair, receiving only a disapproving murmur that made him chuckle. "Come on, Mrs Hughes", he said willfully professionally, releasing her from his embrace and standing up. He stroked over his coat, straightening the folds, when her cautious voice made him turn around again.

"Charles?" She had never called him that before and although he had always loved her voice, the sound of his name on her lips made a slight pleasant shiver running down his spine.

"Mhm?" He faced her again, surprised to see a rather insecure expression on her face, almost troubled, so he followed her invitation when she patted on the bench beside her and sat back down in concern.

"Would you...-?", Mrs Hughes began reluctantly, unsure how to express what she wanted to ask without appearing too bold - wondering what he would think of her, but unable to hold back any longer.  
"I mean...I would very much like it if...", she tried, looking down at her hands in her lap. "- if you would kiss me", she finally breathed out, knowing there was no other way to say it.  
"Properly, I mean", she clarified with a glance at him, quickly averting her gaze again when she felt a familiar heat creep up her cheeks.

"Really? Are you sure?" He tried not to sound too hopeful, just in case she would change her mind and he would have to hold back his disappointment, but the various emotions displayed by his voice made Mrs Hughes misunderstand their meaning.

"You don't need to, of course...", she quickly told him, failing to conceal her embarrassment, "if you don't want-" But he silenced her before she had even brought the sentence to an end.

"What on earth would make you think that I don't want to?", he asked disbelievingly, shocked that she could have had such an impression. "Believe me, I've dreamed of nothing else for decades", he told her truthfully, relieved that the worry began to fade from her eyes.

"Honestly?"

"I have never been more honest about anything", he assured, smiling softly. "And I hoped you would ask me one day", he then admitted. "I didn't want you to think I'd take advantage of you."

"I would never think that", Mrs Hughes said, smiling lovingly as well now. "Although I should warn you, perhaps", she laughed lightly. "It's been a very long time, since...- let's just say I may be a bit out of practice."

"That will be just fine", he declared, feeling quite relieved, if he was honest, "as I can't claim to offer much experience either. It actually makes me very proud to hear you say that."

"Proud?"

"It means that you're truly mine", he explained quietly, stroking over her cheek with the back of his hand, "and mine alone..."

"I have always been", Mrs Hughes whispered back, a truth she had kept locked within her heart since she could remember. "Why do you think I rejected Joe Burns? Twice?", she asked, still not believing that he had been oblivious towards what she thought -had feared- must have been as clear as day. "From the very first moment we met, I knew I would be completely and utterly yours."

Even if she hadn't asked him, he didn't know if he would have been able to hold himself back from kissing her. Perhaps he would have taken a liberty she wasn't willing to grant by doing so, but fortunately, she had taken him out of this misery.  
He had been more open and honest today than he would ever have dared to dream before, laying his heart bare to her like he had never done to anyone else, and still, he felt there weren't enough words in his vocabulary to adequately express what he held in his heart for the woman in front of him. It had always been there, hidden from the world, yet barely under the surface, bubbling and growing day by day, sometimes almost impossible to be contained. He had been dreaming about how it would be when he didn't need to any longer, not daring to hope that this time would ever come - but it had. And as it turned out, she had needed to hear him say it just as much as he had needed to make himself understood.  
Now, however, there was neither need for words nor the possibility to verbalize their feelings but by showing them through the one language that remained...the language of love.

He stepped towards her, his heart nearly bursting with anticipation when she leaned in his direction as well. He could feel the warmth she was radiating -both in body and soul- before his hand had even touched her, lingering in the crook of her neck while he slowly closed the distance between them, watching her features until the very last second when his warm lips finally touched her soft ones and he had to close his eyes.  
It didn't last for more than a few seconds and neither Mrs Hughes nor Mr Carson would have dared to allow any of the desire they kept locked inside of them to show, but it was perfect anyway - this chaste first kiss was everything they needed, the last first kiss for both of them.  
And when Mr Carson leaned back to press his lips against her forehead, her soft sigh like music in his ears, there was an understanding between them that no words in any language in the world could have created. When he hugged her and her arms wrapped around his broad figure in return, it felt like coming home.

Charles Carson had never been a man of the future.  
He didn't like change in the least, usually. But this one time, he was really looking forward to whatever was there to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was it, then. My biggest wish is that you will consider this to be a worthy and satisfying ending to my story, it would make me very proud to know that you liked it until the very end, and I'm grateful for everyone who stuck with me and this story until the end - I appreciate every single reader and review soooo much. Thank you all!  
> And, to end with a quote of my favourite actress: I hope I've earned the privilege of your time.


End file.
